


To the End

by unn_known



Series: Tomorrow and Forever [3]
Category: One Direction
Genre: F/M, Multi, Pregnancy, Updating tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 67,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22535458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unn_known/pseuds/unn_known
Summary: Marrying Niall Horan was the best decision Erin McCarty ever made. Between their hectic and opposing schedules and the media, it hasn’t been easy, but Erin could never imagine it any other way. Through everything, she knows she has him, and he has her, and that's all they've needed. But what happens when a major change comes along and they're forced to find out if they can survive this?
Relationships: Niall Horan/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Tomorrow and Forever [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621447
Comments: 81
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _  
>  **here’s what you missed last week in the “tomorrow” universe:**   
>  _
> 
> \- erin and complete irrationality embarked on an overseas tour as the opening act for one direction  
> \- friction between erin and niall ( _you’ve heard of sparks flying, love at first sight? yeah, this wasn’t that..._ )  
> \- forming bonds with the guys of one direction, except niall because he was being a butt  
> \- a tentative friendship between erin and niall  
> \- a drunken kiss between erin and louis, which put an abrupt stop to the friendship with niall, and no amount of damage control could fix _that_  
>  \- everyone going home to their respective residences and enjoying some time off  
> \- party time at garrett’s! and a drunken kiss with liam. ( _maybe erin should lay off the alcohol?_ )  
> \- time to record!  
> \- jem dies and it broke everyone’s heart (yes, including mine), especially erin who falls into a pit of depression, chain-smoking, and alcoholism  
> \- niall to the rescue! plucky irish boy managed to break through the walls erin put up to deal with the loss (or rather, ignore the pain)  
> \- jem’s funeral and saying goodbye  
> \- complete irrationality broke up  
> \- estranged father suddenly came into the picture ( _what the fuck, dude_ )  
> \- niall fucked up _bad_ by sleeping with someone else after promising he wouldn’t hurt erin again  
> \- erin went solo with her music career  
> \- the boys punish niall while erin and patrick grow closer  
> \- erin’s first show, and nat was a snarky asshole who sent a video of erin performing the song she wrote re: niall _to_ niall  
> \- niall apologised in the best of ways: _two_ love songs over skype, and eriall became a thing again  
> \- erin ran off to spend two weeks in niall’s bed (because she’s smart!)  
> \- louis walked in on some sexy times - poor boy!  
> \- amber and brett it official, and erin forgave her father  
> \- eriall made it suuuuuper-official by getting _married_.
> 
> _and now, on the latest instalment of the “tomorrow” universe: to the end._  
> 
> 
> ____________________

The symbol doesn't change the longer I stare at it. My stomach churns, threatens to expel everything I've ingested today. _This can't be happening_ , I think rather desperately. I drop the pregnancy test to the countertop and take a step backward; my hands tremble, and I clench them into fists to stop the shaking. Tears sting in my eyes as they form. I wish I wasn't alone, but I know well enough that I wouldn't be able to handle this if anyone else was here. I exhale shakily. A tear slips from my cheek onto my arm, and the dam breaks. I let out a broken gasp when breathing becomes a struggle.

A knock on the door startles me. I clear my throat and grab the test, shoving it in one of the empty drawers. Amber stands on the other side, hand raised to knock again; her brow raises as she takes in my face. I let her in and shut the door again.

“Babe? What's wrong?”

“I…”

Words fail me, and I make a vague gesture toward the drawer. Her brows furrow, but she pulls it open and stares, damningly silent, down at the test. When she looks back up at me, her eyes are shining; her mouth wobbles, and she closes the drawer.

“Is this for real?”

I nod and swallow thickly. My best friend gives a succinct nod then tugs me in for a tight hug. I lose track of how long we stand like that, but neither of us speak as we cling to each other Eventually, she pushes me to sit on the closed toilet lid, and I stare at my feet as she perches on the countertop. From the corner of my eye I see her pick up the test gingerly by the end. My heart beats rapidly under my ribs, and I just want her to say something. Anything would be better than the uncomfortable silence.

“Did you just find out?” she asks quietly, and I dip my chin. Her sigh is loud in the quiet; her feet swing slightly as they dangle. “Okay. So. First off, how do you feel about this?”

I give a jerky shrug in response then, when she doesn't speak further, manage to say, “I don't know. Like, I just… can't figure out how I'm supposed to feel. I know that, sure, a lot of people would immediately be thrilled and calling everyone they know. But I, I don't feel that urge, y’know? Honestly, I'm scared as Hell.”

“Why?”

“Because! I'm not even twenty-two yet! I don't have the time. I barely see my family, not even my husband. You're the one person besides the band that I see on a regular basis, and that's only because you stalk me whenever you're tired of your job. Like right now.” I sigh, run my hand through my hair. “And I haven't even thought about what anyone else might think. I mean, management shouldn't get too upset, they usually don't. Mom and Dad, though… they might be pissed at first, but they’ll get over it, I guess. Then they'll be over the fucking moon.”

“You know our friends will be supportive,” she reminds me gently; I nod.

“Yeah, I know.”

“But?”

“But I… Lambchop, I don't know how Niall’s gonna react.”

She cocks her head to the side, frowning. “What do you mean? Don’t you two know each other in every way possible?”

“We, uh, we’ve never talked about having kids,” I admit on a whisper.

Amber reaches out and swats at my head; I duck, mostly on instinct, and her fingers graze the top of my skull. She hops off the counter, crouches in front of me, and grips my hands tightly in hers. I hesitate but then reluctantly meet her eyes, and the gentle smile that she gives me nearly sends me bursting into tears.

“Erin, I love you. Okay? But this is something that you absolutely _need_ to talk to Niall about. Trust me, that boy is so crazy for you, he’d jump off the tallest building in the world if it would make you happy. I mean, don’t ever tell him to, but the sentiment remains. Talk to him. Figure out a game plan _with_ him, and go from there. If, and this is a huge if that I don’t think will ever need to be thought about again, if he decides that a kid isn’t in his life’s plan, then you and I can figure something out together. But I can’t help you with anything right now until you call Niall and discuss this with him.”

I let her wrap me in another embrace, rest my head on her shoulder, and sink into the solidity and warmth of her as I mull over her words. She’s right, as usual: This is one-hundred-percent a bit of news that Niall should know. I slowly pull away and step around her to splash my face with cold water. The test still sits on the counter. I stare down at it before picking it up. Amber takes it from me and wraps it in some paper towel, slipping it into her back pocket. I know she’ll put it in my luggage once she is alone. I sit next to the sink and try to relax as she pulls my makeup bag closer to her.

Thirty minutes later, I rejoin the rest of my band, and Zach throws an arm over my shoulder as we make our way down the corridor to the side of the stage. Amber smacks my ass while passing by to disappear into the crowd, and I let my band mates lead me onto the stage. I'm not sure whether the twisting in my gut is the nerves from the show - playing live has yet to get easier - or the knowledge I was keeping to myself. Either reason is equally as plausible as the other. I shove those thoughts aside, adjust my microphone, and loop my guitar strap over my shoulder. The crowd screams and cheers as I ready myself; I don't bother with any pre-set chatter, just immediately start picking out the opening chords to Free.

**[…]**

The bus is quiet as the tires eat up the miles to the next destination. I stretch out on the lounge sofa and close my eyes. I am completely exhausted, but my brain is in overdrive. My fingers tap against my belly absentmindedly, and I do my best to breathe deeply and evenly, struggling to calm the maelstrom in my mind. Spongebob’s laugh sounds, startlingly loud in the silence; I reach for my phone.

> **From: Lambchop**   
>  _Wait. Does this mean it happened that time you two did the do, like, 2 months ago but we're not supposed to know about that?_

I slap a hand over my face and groan loudly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, totes forgot today was monday - kiddos were home from school and my favourite coffeeshop is closed today, so it felt more like a sunday instead of a monday and i'm very uncaffeinated right now, and i don't like it so here, have a chapter.

I sprawl out across the bed, tugging the pillow over my face, and sigh heavily. It’s been a long day, and I’m ready to go home. I still have almost a month before I can do that, though. Bryan’s voice comes from the kitchenette, easily heard even with the pillow that’s covering my ear. Blowing out a breath, I push the pillow away and roll onto my back. Niall sent a message earlier to say he misses me and can’t wait for our Skype call in a few days; I hadn’t responded - still haven’t. I know if I text him, I’ll want to tell him, and that’s not something that needs to be shared via a damn text. So I’ve avoided opening my messages since yesterday until the urge to spill the news fades just a bit.

The sound of a video game starting up in the lounge area echoes through the bus, and I roll my eyes; of course Zach and Tanner are playing _Diablo_ right now. I climb to my feet to shut the door between my “room” and the rest of the bus, though it does no good - the door is thin, and sounds come through just as easily as if it isn’t closed. I reach for my laptop, opening it, and log into my Twitter account, scroll through my mentions. Someone whoops when the heavy drum-line of an Avenged Sevenfold song begins, and even I have to smile at the fact that Owen’s decided to turn on _Beast and the Harlot_. I get so distracted by the song that I almost don’t hear the Skype ringtone coming from the computer speakers.

The plain white wall behind Natalie doesn't give away anything about where she is; since everything that went down, she's become incredibly particular about her privacy. I don't blame her, though. I hate how much everyone knows about my relationship with Niall and what we've gone through, so I can only imagine what Natalie is feeling and thinking in regards to the world still talking about what happened, not even two years later. I try not to take it personally that she is still so secretive with me. It isn't about me, and her well-being is more important. Besides, at least I still have her friendship, no matter what.

Her lips quirk up into a small smile. “How’s touring?”

“Boring. So boring.” I groan. “Wanna know what I've seen in the last week? Fields and towns out the windows, venues, stages, and the bus. That's all. I was actually excited about seeing the world’s biggest ball of twine. But _no_ , the closest thing to exciting that I've gotten to see is the fucking St Louis Arch as we drove past.”

“A ball of twine? Seriously?”

“That's how bored I've been, Natty.”

“Well, at least it's almost over, right?” she says with a shrug, and I sigh, picking at a callus on my palm.

“Yeah, I guess. I'm pretty happy about that. Then Niall will be home for a bit before they do their final show at the end of December. After that, I have a whole month to fuck around before I have to get crackin’ on the new album.”

“You better come see me!”

“Uh, duh?” Biting my lip, I stop talking for a moment, stare down at my crossed legs. “Hey, are you, uh, you in a good place right now? Like, mentally?”

“Need to vent?”

“Only if you can handle it.”

She holds up a finger then shifts around until she’s more comfortable. “Fire away.”

So I do. I tell her about how hard it's been this tour to not have my friends around, how I've barely talked to my parents since I left. I confess about the heavy dread I carry with me deep in my chest, the loneliness I’ve felt even when I’m surrounded by my loved ones. She stays quiet and listens intently as I whine and moan and complain about how I'm so frustrated - emotionally and sexually - from not seeing my husband.

“And now I've got this fucking baby in me, and it fucking sucks that I'm alone right now. I hate it.”

“Wait, wait. Back the fuck up and repeat that again?”

My eyes widen; I stare at her face through the screen and wonder why and how I managed to let it slip so easily. “I, um… I'm pregnant?”

“That's what I thought you said. Funny coincidence,” she says before she adjusts the angle of her camera; I gasp aloud and clap my hands over my mouth at the very obvious swell of her belly. “Yeah. This is, uh, a thing now.” Natalie lifts the camera back to her face, and her shoulder rises jerkily; the sympathetic smile she gives me helps me feel less lonely. “But yeah, it sucks that he can’t be there with you right now. I get it. Just think, soon you’ll both be home and together again. Just gotta get through this last leg.”

The conversation shifts then, and though I'm still a mess inside, it's easier to ignore as we chat about random things; the months have gone by in a blur of _go-go-go_ , and I've really fallen behind on keeping up with friends - between the touring, writing new music in my downtime, and now adjusting to the bombshell that is the news of my pregnancy, my mind hasn't been quite on track. It is nice, though, to laugh about inconsequential crap with Nat, something we haven't done in so long. I’m still reeling about the news of her pregnancy - and the fact she’s managed to hide it from me for at least six months - even as I joke around with her.

DeDe was the one who told me about Silent Playground falling apart. She hadn’t told me anything more than that there were too many disputes between the group and this wasn’t necessarily a permanent thing, but she wasn’t able to read the future so it was still up in the air. Her voice had been clipped and short, and she’d hung up before I could say anything further. I’d waited two days before I texted Natalie, reached out in an attempt to make sure she was okay - I knew how important the band has always been to her. It broke my heart when she never responded. At least, not to my enquiries about how she was handling the indefinite hiatus of the band.

Her first text to me had come nearly a month after Delia contacted me, and it was a drunken mess of jumbled letters and emojis. Now, looking back on it, I realise it most likely wasn’t a drunk text but an accidental one of the pocket-dial variety. It hadn’t made sense at all, but it was still a decent sign that she was alive. Thankfully, the messages after that became more regular, and I don’t worry nearly as much about her now.

My phone vibrates next to me, and once I see the name on the screen, I raise my brow at Natalie. “Are you kidding me? You are literally on Skype with me right now. Why the Hell are you sending me a text?”

“Because I can’t send links with my voice, dummy.”

I roll my eyes and open the text. The content is a link, true to her word, and I click on it. Nat is biting her lip to stifle a smile when I glance up at her. A laugh escapes me at what pops up on the screen after the page finishes loading. It’s an image of a pale yellow onesie; on it in black lettering are the words _Mommy is way more fun now that she can drink again_. I screenshot the photo and lock my phone, making a mental note to show it to Niall at a later date - once I tell him about the pregnancy, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so. i don't think i ever actually explained this.
> 
> silent playground is the band from my friend's stories, and she's so magnanimously allowing me to use her characters in my sandbox. this is why it's taken so long to get this story written in the first place - i've had to make sure what **_i_** wanted for these characters didn't conflict with her story. (yes, she already had nat being pregnant planned in her story - it just happily coincided with my plans for this story!)


	3. Chapter 3

Bryan’s hand is heavy on my shoulder as he prevents me from rushing off the bus. I stop, sigh, and turn to face him. His dark eyes are hidden by his sunglasses, but I can feel the concern; he pulls the door shut so no one can eavesdrop.

“Spill it, kid.”

“Spill what?”

“You've been acting… _off_ over the last few days. You haven't sat still for more than three seconds. You can barely focus on anything, and the instant you do, you're already off focusing on something completely different. What's going on?”

I shrug, wilting in on myself. I know it's literally his job to be observant in regards to me, but I hate how he can see something is different. And it is. It's been a little under a week since the test I took told me I'm pregnant, and I've been doing everything in my power to stay out of my own mind. I don't want to dwell on the potential reality that Niall is going to be upset - or worse, he’ll be ecstatic and my own feelings toward it won't grow. I've felt nothing but apprehension and fear since that positive sign showed up. So keeping busy has been helpful enough. Obviously, it's been worrying to others.

“Nothing, Bryan, pinkie promise.”

“You'd tell me if something comes up?”

“Absolutely!”

His expression remains sceptical, but he lets me leave without anything further. I catch up with Owen just inside the hotel’s entrance, and his arm immediately hooks over my shoulder, squeezing gently at my neck. I laugh and lean into him. Someone’s camera clicks; I mentally prepare myself for the photos and articles that will be in every tabloid this evening about how I'm cheating on my husband and screwing a dude fifteen years older than me.

Thankfully, no one bothers us as we trek up to our rooms. The lock on my door flashes green and releases with a click, and I wiggle my fingers at the guys before disappearing inside. My suitcase is already sitting on the bed, and I sigh at the sight. I know, buried between layers of clothing, is that damn test - and the other two I've taken in the last week. I drop my messenger bag to the floor, bend down to pull out my laptop, and settle in on the bed, nudging at the suitcase with my foot to give me a little extra room.

> **To: Ni-baby**   
>  _Hey, love of mine. Just got to the hotel so if you wanna Skype, I'm ready._
> 
> **From: Ni-baby**   
>  _10 ?_
> 
> **To: Ni-baby**   
>  _Perf. xxxxx_

After fifteen minutes of staring blankly at the ceiling, my laptop starts chiming. I twitch in surprise before pulling it closer. I hesitate, just for a moment, but then click on Answer with Video.

As it usually does, my heart begins beating faster and my stomach flops over itself at the sight of Niall’s face. The last time we video-chatted was over a week ago; our schedules just haven't allowed it. Between the separate tours and multitude of interview and photoshoots, we've barely had time to send text messages throughout the day. I blink away the tears in my eyes and give him a tremulous smile, chest tightening when his brows draw together.

“What's wrong, love?”

“Nothing.”

He shakes his head. “No. I've put up with hearing that you're fine every day for the last week, because I thought since I couldn't see your face, I was imagining things, maybe even projecting. But I can see clearly that something is wrong.”

“I _am_ fine,” I protest weakly, but all this does is cause him to roll his eyes and lean back in his seat, look away from me. I let out a sharp exhale, nodding to myself in an attempt to give myself courage. “Okay, so… _maybe_ there's something we need to talk about.”

Niall’s lips pull down into a frown, and I can see where his thoughts are taking him. I understand why, too - after all, the last time marriage was a thing in our friend group, Louis and Nat had gotten divorced out of nowhere. I hold a hand up to stop him from speaking, try to figure out the best way to start this conversation. Eventually, I realise there is no right way to tell someone you're married to that you're expecting, so I sigh, scrub at my face with my hands. The ceiling isn't interesting, but it is much easier to stare at while I say what I need to say.

“I'm not calling to tell you I want to get a divorce, just wanna get that out there now.”

“All right. Then why won't you look at me right now?”

“I, I'm pregnant.”

When Niall doesn't speak after a long moment, I drop my head to look at him. He’s still sitting back in his chair, eyes wide and unblinking. I shift uncomfortably under his stare; the silence between us stretches on, becomes more tight and tense, and I bite my lip, wondering if there’s been a glitch in the program. The call ends with a low-pitched noise as I press the hang up button.

_That went lovely_ , I think with a scoff, setting my laptop aside. A sharp pain races up my leg, and I hiss aloud and bring my foot up to examine the toe I've just stubbed against the corner of my suitcase. It’s not even red, but it still hurts. I stick my tongue out at my luggage and manoeuvre myself to lie down on the bed, my feet away from the suitcase. I stare at the background of my laptop - a photograph of our first kiss as husband and wife.

“Are you serious?” is the first thing he says when his face appears again, five minutes after I'd hung up, and I push myself to sit up.

“Yeah, very serious. Three tests can't be wrong, right?”

He nods slowly, his hands coming up to cradle his head. I can hear him mumbling under his breath to himself; he finally looks back up at me. “Who else knows?”

My heart sinks, and I feel like throwing up. I honestly had begun to hope otherwise, but of course he's unhappy about this - we've been married for less than a year. I swipe the tears from my cheeks angrily, stare at my keyboard. I’m aware that if I speak right now, I'm going to either start crying too hard for my words to be understandable or I will say something that would just exacerbate the tension of the situation.

“I've only told Amber,” I admit finally once my emotions are under control. “I wanted to wait until after the first appointment before I told anyone else besides you. And the only reason she knew before you is because, well, she was there. Oh, and Nat, but that was completely on accident. It just slipped out while I was venting.”

“When’s the appointment?” he asks after a moment, and I double-check the calendar on my phone.

“Uh, Friday at ten.”

“Damn it.” Niall sighs and ruffles his hair; his jaw tics slightly as he thinks. “I, I can’t get away. Not this soon.”

I shrug, pick at a fuzz on the comforter beneath me. “That’s okay, babe. I understand.”

“Will you let me know what the doctor says, please?”

I’m not expecting this, not after he’s been so quiet for the last ten minutes, and I stare at him in surprise, then blink back to myself. I nod quickly. Clearing my throat, I avoid looking in his eyes, and my fingers scratch more insistently at the fuzz.

“Can-can I ask you something?”

“You know you can ask me anything, love.”

“Are you… okay with this?”

“What? Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?”

His voice is tight, and he frowns and doesn't take his gaze off me. The thumping of my heart makes me feel like he should be able to hear it, it's thunderous to me. My mouth forms words, but nothing comes out. Eventually, my shoulders rise and fall in an abortive shrug.

“Well, we've never said whether we wanted kids or not, and we've only been married for seven months. On top of that, we've seen each other a grand total of…” I pause, thinking back to the past year, and eventually come up with a count, “twice since the wedding. So…”

Niall’s expression turns pained, and I chew on my bottom lip. His eyes are dark through the connection, and I can't tell if it's because of the fact that it's late at night where he is or his emotions; he draws in a shuddering breath that answers that question. Dragging his hands over his face, he sighs and rises to his feet. The screen fills with a stretch of white - his T-shirt - and the audio is tinged with static.

The call stabilises after a moment, and I realise he's moved to the bed of his own hotel room. I watch him move pillows around until they act as a barrier between his back and the headboard. Finally, _finally_ , he puts the laptop on his lap, angling the screen so I can see his face clearly. His lips twist into a small, almost non-existent smile, but it falls off his face as quickly as it appears.

“I… I’m sorry that you thought I wouldn’t be happy about this. I’m, I’m definitely surprised, I didn’t expect to call you and be told I’m going to be a dad, but sweetheart, don’t think for a second that I’m not utterly ecstatic.” He pouts a bit. “I just wish I could be there with you for the appointment.”

I drop my head back and blink away the tears. I don’t want him to feel even worse about anything. It’s not his fault that I was so certain he’d be angry hearing the news; it’s because of my own worries and insecurities. A small voice in my head is still saying that I should run, that I should do what I need to do to protect myself, but it’s drowned out by the rational part of my brain telling me that Niall is different and wouldn’t hurt me again - he’s already proven that over and over again. I sniff and wipe my eyes with the hem of my T-shirt.

“I wish you could, too. It’s… it’s gonna be hard without you. But yeah, I’ll tell you everything the doctor says.”

“Why you goin’ to the doctor?”

Niall rolls his eyes as Harry’s voice fills the room, and I stifle a giggle. Of course Harry would unknowingly intrude on such a heavy conversation. His face pops up in the corner of the screen, upside-down in his attempt to see who Niall is talking to over the top of the laptop. From behind the mass of curls I catch Niall’s questioning look and I shake my head, just the slightest turn; he settles back looking almost disappointed, even as I focus on our friend.

“Hi, Hazza, nice nostrils. To answer your question, I have an annual check-up I gotta go to.”

“So, why tell Niall about it?”

I stare blankly at him, blinking slowly. “Because he’s my husband…?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah!” He laughs and disappears from sight, his voice distant as he calls out, “Miss you, Erin!”

“I miss you, too, Dimples.”

Niall and I know better than to plan on staying on the call for too much longer; now that one of the boys knows he’s video-chatting me, the others are bound to join in. And they do - Liam flopping down onto the bed and making the laptop shake, Louis scooping up the computer and moving as far away from the rest of the group as he can to talk to me without them interrupting or trying to take over. I almost ask after Zayn before I remember; it’s been months since Zayn left the band, but it’s still so hard to wrap my mind around, especially when I see the others in high moods.

Niall and I considered pushing the wedding back after his announcement that he was leaving, but he convinced us to go through with it; he claimed if we didn't do it then, we probably never would. He'd been a groomsmen, and I still love looking at the photos of that day, seeing the guys laughing and smiling and enjoying the day together.

Zayn and I still text occasionally, though it isn’t really the same if I’m not able to see him regularly. Then again, I don’t really see Harry, Louis, Liam, or Niall regularly, regardless of the fact that I’m _married_ to Niall. I shake off the thoughts and grin widely when Haz and Lou decide to play keep-away with the laptop.

Eventually, Niall grabs the computer back, shoos our friends from the room, and waits until they’re done yelling out goodbyes and have closed the door behind them before he looks back at me. I shoot him a sad smile and raise a finger to stroke across the screen where his stubbled cheek is. He gets it, leaning his head into my “touch” without hesitation, then leans forward a bit, so that he’s able to speak more quietly while still allowing me to hear him.

“I miss you so much. Will you be home when we’re finally done with this tour?”

“Absolutely. Management doesn’t really want me in the studio until about mid-January, I think, so I’ll have a whole month without responsibilities.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Ni.”

The video stills, his blue eyes and soft grin frozen on the screen for a moment, but then the call ends. I know, completely and logically, that he won’t be calling back; it’s too late for more conversation, no matter how much we miss each other. With the schedules we’ve had to keep - the early wake-ups, long drives to different destinations, the hours put into the rehearsals and shows - it just has not been feasible to spend more than an hour on a video-call once every week or so. It’s even harder now that I’m nearing the end of my tour.

I’ve enjoyed travelling around America, playing music and meeting fans, but I just… I miss my home. I miss my parents and best friends. Most of all, I miss crawling into bed with my husband, which has only happened three times since our wedding: the first two nights as a married couple and about a month into my tour, when Niall had managed to slip away from his own tour for a night between cities.

I sigh and ready for bed, ignoring the heaviness in my gut as the dot next to Niall’s name stays grey. I finally close out of Skype, crawl between the sheets, and stare at the background image. It had been an absolutely perfect day, and marrying Niall was the cherry on top. No one had argued, my friends made sure the day went smoothly even though things were still tense and uncomfortable between Natalie and Louis, and my dad walked me down the aisle like I thought was impossible for so long. The only thing that could have made it better is if Jem had been there. Seeing only Alan had hurt for a minute, but then he'd smiled that smile that was so familiar, and it eased the ache of missing Jem on such an important day.

My phone vibrates next to me, and I close my eyes, frustrated and exhausted and… needing _something_ to change. Slowly, I reach for the device and unlock it.

> **From: Ni-baby**   
>  _Can I ask why we aren't telling the lads yet ?_
> 
> **To: Ni-baby**  
>  _ **<** I kinda wanted to keep this between us for just a little bit longer._  
>  **<** _Like I told you, Amber only knows because she was there, she walked in on me right after I found out, and she helped me calm down, and Nat found out because I wasn’t thinking while venting to her._  
>  **<** _I was incredibly scared and confused and just… But yeah, I’d like to keep this our secret, enjoy that we know it ourselves, for a little while more._
> 
> **From: Ni-baby**  
>  **>** _That makes sense. I’m terribly sorry that I’m not there with you. I wish I could be_  
>  **>** _Telling them okay after we tell our parents ?_
> 
> **To: Ni-baby**   
>  _Yeah, after._


	4. Chapter 4

I groan and let my head fall back against the headrest, closing my eyes against the bright sunlight. I was up half the night, unable to sleep, tossing and turning and vomiting in turns. It makes me wonder how I've completely overlooked the random bouts of nausea I have dealt with over the last couple of weeks; the first time it happened, I thought maybe it was something I ate. I really should have noticed _something_ when it happened repeatedly since. The fact that I haven’t been able to wear a bra, no matter how much I hate wearing one at any other time in my life, has been the biggest sign in retrospect.

Bryan pulls up outside of the tall building where the photoshoot is to take place, and I exhale slowly. Whether it’s because of the pregnancy or a sudden onset of carsickness, my stomach is threatening to revolt, and I’m miserable, quite frankly.

There are a handful of people standing at the edge of the lot, prevented from moving forward by a line of security guards; the fans begin screaming as I step out of the SUV, and I wonder idly if they can see any changes in my body even as I wave at them, though I know it’s an impossibility at this stage. Bryan’s hand rests against my shoulder, pushes me toward the door with gentle insistence. He doesn’t bother taking off his sunglasses even once we’re indoors, and I roll my eyes at him.

“You watch too many movies with bodyguards,” I comment lightly, poking him in the side, and he swats at my finger with his free hand.

“And you don’t take my job seriously enough.”

“At least I’ve never been like Natalie. You and Rick are friends, you know the shenanigans she pulled with him.”

“I’d have killed you long before now if you pulled half that shit with me, and you know it.”

“Yeah, Rick has always had a soft spot for that crazy girl.”

Bryan gives me a dark look through his shades. “Don’t get any ideas.”

I laugh as an assistant leads me away to the dressing room. The stylist looks me over, and I nearly burst into giggles at the way she slips the tip of her pen between her teeth as she thinks. Eventually, she gives out a “ _hmmph_ ” and crosses the room to the racks of clothing lined against the wall.

I take the outfit she hands me in silence, moving to the curtained-off section to change. She doesn’t look happy while I pull the curtains closed behind me, but I really, really do not care. A shred of privacy is all I want, and I will do what I can to obtain it.

I close my eyes and swallow thickly. The pants won’t button up properly without me having to suck my belly in. I can hear the stylist muttering quietly to someone else on the other side of the curtain, and though I can’t hear the words, my mind keeps telling me that she’s talking negatively about me. I exhale slowly, steadily, and wipe my hands across my eyes. She glances up at me, falling silent immediately, when I poke my head through the curtain.

“I’m… I’m sorry, but is there a different size of pants? I-I’m kinda bloated right now.”

Her lips thin out. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”

When she returns, she has a black velvet mini-skirt in her hand. She passes it over, and I force a smile before ducking back behind the curtain. The stretchy waistband allows the skirt to settle comfortably along my hips; I exchange my worn-out shirt for the silver halter top that she chose. I step out into the main room and sit on one of the chairs to slip my feet into a pair of patterned ankle boots.

“Hm. Something’s missing.” The stylist cocks her head then nods succinctly. “Right. Sorry, hun, gotta do this.”

I don't have time to consider what she can possibly be talking about before her hands are slipping inside the top. Something sticky attaches to the bottom of my breast, and she pulls up sharply; I bite my tongue to stop the yelp of surprise and pain as she presses the top of the adhesive bra to my skin. My breathing is shaky and I'm near tears again as she switches sides.

A voice in the back of my head screams at me to punch her, but logic demands to be heard: It's an overreaction, she would sue and I would be thrown in prison for assault, hitting her would open a whole can of worms that I’m not ready to explain. So I take a deep breath, force the words back down, and ignore the throbbing in my breasts.

The photographer is one I don’t know, but he seems nice enough as he instructs me to smile, pose, change. Eventually, I’m dismissed, and I go back to the dressing room to change back into my yoga pants, T-shirt, and hoodie. I know the interviewer is probably expecting me to look more put together, but I really can't be bothered. Between the ache in my boobs from peeling off a ridiculously sticky bra added to the general tenderness and my utter exhaustion, they're lucky I'm even coherent right now.

I somehow manage to get through the interview, laughing and smiling at the right times, answering the questions in sentences that don't ramble on and on, cracking jokes when I feel like things are getting too serious (namely, when David asks how I manage to juggle my marriage and my career, especially when Niall is much more well-known and in-demand than I am; he apologises immediately and profusely at how callous his question is, but I wave it off - he's not wrong, after all).

We part with a quick handshake, and I follow Bryan out to the SUV.

“Hey, um, how much do you love me?” I ask as I buckle my seatbelt.

“Depends on what you want.”

“Wow. Rude.” I catch his eye in the rear view mirror and quickly look away. “Nah, can we go to this address before going back to the venue?”

He takes the slip of paper from me, glancing down at it. “Yeah, sure.”

Thankfully, the navigation app doesn't announce what the address is for, but I have about thirty minutes before we arrive. Then, because he's not an idiot, he’ll figure it out. I settle back in my seat and pick at my nails, watch as building pass by us.

“Erin.”

My eyes fall shut at the tone of his voice, but I force myself to meet his gaze. He actually takes off his sunglasses as he stares at me, half-turned in the driver’s seat. The number on the dashboard clock ticks to the next one; I slowly nod my head, and his light eyes widen. A lazy smile splits his face.

“When - hold on. Is this why you've been acting weird?”

“Yeah. Can we just go in?”

He shakes his head but gets out of his seat, rounding the vehicle to open my door for me. I give him an odd look when he walks slightly closer to me than normal. His only response is to shrug and stop me from stepping in front of a car that's decided to ignore the fact that two people are about to go through a crosswalk. I roll my eyes, push my hair from my face, and step inside the building. Gusts of warm air comes from the vents above the entryway, and I shiver at the contrast against my cheeks, chilled from being outside in the breezy fifty-degree weather.

Once I've signed in, I make my way to the chair in the corner of the room. Bryan takes the seat next to me, keeps his body angled to keep an eye on everyone in the waiting room - the receptionist and a woman who looks to be about mid-thirties who's engrossed in reading a tabloid with Angelina Jolie’s face on the cover. Filling out the form takes very little time once I focus; I've had to fill out registration forms many times over the years with only calling my mom for information one time.

The nurse comes out and calls my name before I'm done, so I stick the pen in the clippy thing at the top of the board and follow her back. Bryan hesitates but comes along, too. We come to a stop at the end of the hall where there's a nook with a scale; she tuts quietly at the numbers but writes them down.

“So we’re gonna be in room seven, ma’am, right around this corner here.” Nissa glances at Bryan then at me. “Is your friend coming in, too?”

“Mind if I stand outside the door?”

“Not at all, sir.”

She shuts the door in Bryan’s face and motions for me to sit on the examination table. I oblige with her requests while she takes my temperature and blood pressure reading and listens to my heart and lungs. Her touch is clinical but gentle, and she finishes quickly. She leaves with an order for me to change into a gown and a promise that the doctor will be in as soon as possible.

Goosebumps ripple across my flesh as I sit there waiting. My heels hit lightly against the table base, my legs too full of nervous energy to remain still, and I stare at the photographs on the wall - dozens upon dozens of babies in hospital nursery cribs. I grimace at one particularly ugly baby then freeze, horrified at myself for that thought.

Thankfully, I’m not left alone for too long; the doctor comes in after a few minutes and smiles at me.

“Hi, there. You must be Erin. I’m Doctor Alvarez. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

“Okay. So you’re here because you’re pregnant?”

“Yeah. Three tests said I was, anyway. So…” I shrug.

“All righty then. Everything looks good so far, although your weight is, well, it’s honestly kind of worrying that the numbers aren’t higher. Have you always been that small?”

“I, uh, I guess? I mean, I could probably stand to eat more, but yeah.”

“Hm. Okay. We’ll definitely have to figure out a way of safely increasing your weight, but right now, let’s go over your medical history, then we’ll go further after that.”

An hour later, I’m standing in the cold sunshine, staring down at the file folder in my hand. Doctor Alvarez made copies of my paperwork since, as she so accurately put it, I probably won’t be able to have just one doctor while on tour.

Bryan’s head snaps up, and he nudges me, pushes me toward the car. A teenager is staring right at us, and I know, I just _know_ , that her mind is going a mile a minute right now. I duck my head and hurry across the car park. The best I can hope for now is she thinks I'm someone else and doesn't Tweet about it.

Bryan pulls out of the lot, and I let out a slow breath, open the folder. There, paper-clipped to the inside of the file, is the sonogram. My finger runs lightly over the teeny tiny mass that's supposedly the baby; it certainly looks nothing like what the end result does. A hot tightness forms in my chest, and I can't stop the giddy giggle that comes out.

“You excited?”

“I… I don't think it's real quite yet.”

“Yeah, that'll change,” he says with a quiet chuckle, merging lanes to get to our exit. “So, uh, tell Niall yet?”

“Yep. Told him when we talked on Skype on Sunday.”

“How's he taking it?”

“Um, much better than I thought, to be honest.”

“Good. I'd hate to have to kill him.”

I pause. “Y’know, you threaten to kill people an awful lot for a big ol’ softy.”

“For you, kid? I'd kill the pope without hesitation.”

The fact that he's Catholic only compounds the seriousness of his statement. I swallow down the lump that's suddenly formed in my throat, smile at his reflection in the rear view mirror, then stare down at the fuzzy white lump on the sonogram.

I haven't lied - none of this seems like reality, like I'm going to wake up at any moment and have everything turn out to be one helluva dream. Somewhere, though, way down deep inside of me, I feel something stir to life, and it takes a long moment to process and put a name to it: Hope. Excitement. Anticipation for whatever the future is bringing.

**[... ... ...]**

> **To: Ni-baby**   
>  _You busy?_

I make sure the text has been delivered then toss my phone onto the bed. I still have two hours before soundcheck; maybe I can sneak in a nap. Unfortunately, that plan is derailed by the fact that _Little Things_ has begun to play loudly. I flop down onto the mattress and press the answer button. Niall’s face appears on the screen, and I lose the struggle against my smile. The background behind him is full of people running around, but then the view gets blurry as he ostensibly finds somewhere in private to talk to me.

Eventually, it goes quiet, and I giggle when I see he’s in a storage closet of some venue. His grin is wide, though I can see the worried tightness at the edges. I reach for the folder on the bedside table and flip it open, sliding the sonogram out from under the paperclip. I hold it up, adjusting the angle until the entire thing is clear in the video.

“Oh, _hell_ ,” he whispers, and I peek around the edge of the ultrasound to see his hand trembling over his mouth, eyes shining. “Is that…?”

“That, my love, is the itty-bitty, raspberry-sized baby that I am currently incubating.”

“Oh, my God.”

“According to the doctor, I’m roughly eight weeks along, due middle of June. She said I’ll be able to get a more accurate date at my next appointment.”

“Oh, my _God_. Erin…”

“Yes?”

His accent is more pronounced, voice thick, when he murmurs, “That’s our baby.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Can, can you send me a picture?”

“Of course, love.” I grin and finally set the sonogram down so that I have an unobstructed view of his awestruck expression. “You gonna be okay there, Dad?”

Niall nods slowly, mouth still covered, and I press the button to take a picture. He inhales unsteadily after a moment, but I don’t speak, just let him process everything on his own time. The rest of the call takes very little time now that he’s seen the ultrasound - he still has a concert to do within the next half-hour, and I need to eat something like Doctor Alvarez told me to.

We come up with a plan together to tell our friends and family after the next appointment, once the risk of potential miscarriage decreases; I show him the photo one more time, and he hangs up, grinning widely.

As soon as the screen goes to my wallpaper, I open up my camera and snap a picture of the sonogram. I triple-check the recipient before sending the message; it’s just my luck that I would try to send it to my husband only to end up sending it to my management company or someone equally out of the loop. Niall sends back a selfie of him grinning like a loon on the side of the stage, eyes suspiciously brighter. I save the picture to my phone and stand, ready to go find some fruit to snack on.


	5. Chapter 5

The screaming of the audience is deafening as soon as I step up to the side of the stage a couple of weeks later, and I wince at the volume; someone nudges me, and a pair of earplugs are pushed into my hand. I mouth _thanks_ to the tech, shoving them into my ears. My gaze immediately scans over the stage. It takes a moment, but then Liam moves out of the way, and I see Niall for the first time since our video call when I showed him the sonogram.

He’s singing his heart out, voice clear and strong. My heart tightens in my chest, and I blink away tears. Seeing him in his element, seeing him so happy and obviously enjoying what he does, has always been one of my favourite things to witness, even when we weren’t talking. I follow him with my eyes, laugh aloud when he grabs at his rear when they sing “ _and talking out of our asses_ ”.

The set eventually comes to an end, and the boys bow and wave to the cheering crowd. I step back further into the shadowy spaces, waiting. The thundering of my pulse is loud in my ears; my palms are sweating, and I realise that I’m actually nervous. This is the first time I’ll be seeing Niall in person in the last three months and since telling him we were going to have a child a few weeks ago. He’s been happy while on our phone and video calls, but it can always turn out to be completely different now that we’ll be face-to-face.

I wipe my hands on the front of my leggings - the only thing that seems to fit properly any more - and chew on my lower lip. The screaming from the fans drowns out any other noise, but I don’t care about that, not when Niall is now within reach. He takes a towel from one of the crew, drags it over his face, and smiles brightly at everyone around him.

Once he passes by where I’m hiding, I follow him. Harry catches sight of me, his eyes widening and mouth falling open, and I wink then reach out to give my husband’s sides a gentle pinch.

“What the _hell_?”

I clap both my hands over my mouth, but it does nothing to stifle the snort before I dissolve into giggles. Niall whirls around; his face melts from irritated to overjoyed in less than a second. I squeal when he flings his arms around me, drags me in for a bone-crushing hug. I bury my face into his sweaty neck, sniffling as tears fill my eyes, and I hold on tight.

We ignore the others while they pass, too wrapped up in ourselves to pay any attention to them. He pushes me back enough so that he can kiss me; I nearly melt to the floor at the first touch of his lips against mine.

Three months. Three damn months. It’s been too long since we’ve been together, and it is overwhelmingly intoxicating to have this right now. A ball of discontent in my gut, one I wasn’t even fully aware of, fades into nothingness the longer we stand there.

Eventually, the sound of someone clearing their throat behind us forces us to separate. I groan into the kiss but pull away. Niall’s cheeks are flushed, his blue eyes dark as they roam over my face, and I lean up to kiss him gently.

“Nope, move it.”

I roll my eyes, turning to pout at Bryan who looks completely unmoved by my reaction to him ruining my life. He just shoves at our shoulders until we start walking down the corridor. Niall doesn’t take his arm from around my waist; I lean into his side and relish the feeling of having him so warm and solid against me.

Liam, Louis, and Harry instantly yank me away from Niall and wrap me in a four-way embrace. They all talk over each other, their voices blending together in a chaotic mess, and though I can’t understand what any of them are saying, it feels wonderful to be with them again. Louis pouts when I wiggle my way out of the hug and move to sit on the couch.

I take my cue to close my eyes when Liam takes off his shirt; Niall protests loudly at our friend’s actions, but I giggle and let my head fall back. It isn’t the first time I’ve been with them in their dressing room after a show. After a few minutes, I’m given the all-clear, and I barely have my eyes opened before Harry is asking for details about my tour. The next hour is spent helping the guys gather up their stuff - seriously, how can their dressing rooms be so damn messy when the lads hardly spend any time in them? - and discussing the venues I’ve performed in and the upcoming studio session.

Niall stops me before I can pull the curtains back once we’ve boarded the bus. “That’s, er, that’s Louis’s extra bunk.”

“Oh…’kay?”

He grabs the duffel bag from my hand and places it into a lower bunk on the other side of the aisle. When he turns back to me, I snake my arms around his waist, tug until he steps closer. There is no hesitation as he ducks down to kiss me. I’ve missed this so much. Just being able to touch him, inhale the scent of him… My heart feels like it could burst with how extraordinarily elated I am to be here with him right now.

The bus rumbles to life under our feet, and I sway as it starts moving. Niall’s arms tighten around me, keeping me steady. I rest my ear against his chest once we part and listen to the rhythmic beating of his heart. After a long minute, I pull back, smile up at him.

“I’ve missed you.”

**[:.:.:.:]**

I clap a hand over my mouth, spin on my heel, and shove past the people standing at the edge of the stage. By some miracle, I make it to a bathroom and am on my knees in front of the toilet before I can no longer hold it in. My stomach revolts, forces up everything I’ve ingested today.

The door opens as I dry-heave, spitting bile and saliva into the toilet. Cool hands press to the back of my neck; I drape my forearm over the seat, resting my head against my arm, and groan miserably. The person next to me hands me a wet paper towel, and I take it from them to clean my face. Finally, I look up.

Stefanie stares down at me, brows pulled together over worried eyes. I shrug and push myself to my feet, and she reaches over to steady me when I sway dangerously. I force a smile, make my way to the sink, and rinse my mouth out with water from the tap.

My skin is clammy, and I scrub my hands over my cheeks to get some colour back into them. As soon as I’m finished towelling my face dry, Stefanie engulfs me in a warm hug.

“You okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Erin… is, is there something going on?”

“No,” I reply quickly; judging by the way her eyebrow raises, it was too quick of a response. I sigh, smooth out the hem of my shirt. “I’m fine.”

Her gaze is unwavering, scrutinising. She finally glances away from my face - down to my belly. “Are you pregnant?”

My stomach plummets. _How does she know?_ , I think as I struggle to find words. I don’t even know what I can say. She’s staring at me, waiting for an answer, and eventually, she seems to take my silence as answer enough. She brushes my hair from my face and smiles.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, I promise.”

“How did you figure it out?”

She shrugs, holds out a pack of spearmint-flavoured gum. “Honestly? It was mostly a wild guess. But the fact that you’ve eaten nothing but healthy food, haven’t had any coffee in the time you’ve been here, and you’re nauseous seemingly out of nowhere kinda led me in that direction.”

I don’t say anything as I chew the gum. Thankfully, she doesn't expect me to speak. Her arm comes up to wrap around my shoulder, and she leads me from the bathroom. We make our way to the side of the stage; the guys are still performing, but Niall keeps glancing over into the wings.

Stefanie leaves me there with a pat to my shoulder, going back out to the area between the stage and audience once she has her camera in hand. I take the water bottle that Paul passes over, taking a small sip and hoping like Hell it stays down.

The concert finally ends, and it doesn't take long before Niall is at my side. I catch the inquisitive look that Liam throws him, but I don't get the chance to think about it - I'm too busy trying to dodge the way Niall’s hands are fluttering about as he frets. I sigh and grab his wrists, yanking them down. He opens his mouth in an attempt to protest, but I raise an eyebrow.

“Later.”

His lips turn down at the corners; regardless of his upset at not having answers now, though, he nods succinctly and moves to stand behind me. I lean back against his chest, melt into the solid stretch of warmth at my back, and give the other four a smile as they troop off the stage. Louis darts forward to kiss my cheek softly, and I know Niall is listening in.

“You disappeared. You okay?”

“Yeah, just ate something that wasn't quite right. ‘S’all good, Tommo.”

“Okay. What do you say we ditch this tosser and go have some fun?”

I laugh at the ridiculous way he waggles his eyebrows at me, shoving ineffectually at his shoulder. “Go away, you freak.”

His blue eyes sparkle with amusement even as he does; the rest of us follow him down the hallway to the back entrance. By the time we’re all boarded on the bus on our way to the hotel for one final night of rest before the tour is over, I’m exhausted. I yawn widely as I amble toward the bunks with a request for someone to wake me up when we arrive. It takes nothing more than lying down and curling up to put me to sleep.

Shuffling through the suite, I follow Niall into the room we’re going to share. The nap I took on the bus has done nothing to alleviate the exhaustion that courses through me, weighs down my entire being. He puts our suitcases by the wall as I stretch out on the bed. A moan escapes when my body seems to melt into the mattress. Niall huffs out a quiet laugh, leans down to kiss my forehead, then disappears into the attached bathroom. I don’t remember when he comes back out - I’m already asleep.

**[.:.:.:.]**

The clock on the nightstand says it’s almost one in the morning, but I’m wide awake after two trips to the toilet to pee. Niall’s so clearly tired, there’s no way he can hide it without his yawns proving him to be a liar; it doesn’t stop him from being awake with me.

He slides his fingers across my belly, murmurs something I can’t hear. My quiet laugh echoes slightly in the silence of the room, and he mock-glares at me before turning his gaze back to my belly.

“Ignore your mum, little one. She just doesn’t understand. She isn't cool like us. But… She’s amazing, though. You’re gonna love her. I do. So much, more than I can put into words.” His fingers are gentle as they stroke over my skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “She's smart and brave and strong, and I hope you're as beautiful as she is. You are going to be so loved, did you know that? Between your mum, me, your family, there won't be a day that you'll ever be alone. I can't wait to meet you.”

“Ni…”

“Would you hush, woman? I am trying to bond with our child.”

I roll my eyes, gesture for him to continue. It's actually really sweet, and I won't admit it, but my heart is definitely a pile of goo listening to him speak to our baby. Any anxiety I've felt has all but gone, at least when it comes to whether he is accepting of the pregnancy.

I know it's hard for him to not tell our friends, but I'm so grateful that he's willing to wait. He lays his palm flat against my stomach and goes quiet. I frown, run my fingers through his hair, and wait for him to speak.

“I can't believe this is real,” he whispers into the dark.

“Neither can I.”

“Still worried?”

I shrug and twist the ends of his hair around my finger. “Yeah. I mean, we’re, well, we’re so young, and we didn't exactly plan for this.”

With a sigh, Niall kisses my belly softly, murmuring an _I love you already_ , and shifts until his head is on the pillow instead of at my side. His hand finds mine, and he squeezes comfortingly. I exhale slowly as he pulls me into his chest. We lie wrapped in each other without saying a word for a long while. I let myself relax in the comfort of his arms, and my mind automatically conjures up thoughts of what our child will look like.

“Love… I know this is a massive surprise, but I am so incredibly excited for this. Okay? I don't care that we haven't even had our first anniversary yet. Hearing you say that I'm going to be a dad is the best thing I've gotten to experience. Well, it's tied for hearing you say ‘I do’, but either way, isn't it obvious? The most amazing events in my life include _you_ , and I don't want you to think otherwise.”

“I'm… I'm terrified. What if I fail at this?”

“Oh, love. You're going to be amazing. You've had a wonderful example your entire life, and if you’re anything like your mother, then our baby will be the luckiest child in the world. There is literally no one else in this world who I’d rather be married to and raising a baby with. We’re young, yes, but… Erin,” he murmurs, kissing the top of my head before nudging my face up with a knuckle, staying silent until I look directly at him, “I have been in love with you since practically the first moment I laid eyes on you. Even through all the bad times, when we were at each other’s throats or not talking…

“I still wanted and needed and loved you, regardless of the fact that I didn’t know it myself. I can’t put into words just how much I love you. I will _always_ love you, and I’m telling you right here and now that I will tell you every single day all the reasons that I love you if it helps you remember that marrying you? Easily the best thing I’ve ever done. No contest, hands down.

“It would kill me to lose you. Do you hear me? I could lose the fame, the fortune, even the band, and I’d be fine. But I wouldn’t survive losing you again. All this baby is going to do is make my love grow stronger. I don’t want you to ever forget that.”

I nod, breathing shakily as tears stung my eyes. He murmurs in protest when I close my eyes, but I can’t bear meeting his gaze. Somehow, he’s been able to assuage fears I haven’t even voiced, let alone considered myself. I let out a shaky breath, scoot closer to him.

The scent of his cologne and skin, the soft even cadence of his breath, it’s all so comforting, and I breathe it in. I’m almost back to sleep when my eyes snap open, and I groan aloud, shoving back the blankets and stomping petulantly across the room to the bathroom for yet another pee-session.

**[.:.:.:.]**

The reflection in the mirror is no help. I turn to face the opposite wall, hoping a different angle will give me a better answer than what I’ve gotten so far. To me, the slight swell to my belly is blatantly obvious, but I’m not sure if it’s because I’ve seen my body regularly over the last month or if it actually is visible. I heft up the hem of my shirt higher, let my body relax, and squint as I stare at the mirror.

It’s been three days since the tour ended, and it has gotten so much harder not to let the secret out now. I know it’s only a matter of time before I can’t hide it any more - the bump is going to get harder to keep from sight - but…

I sigh and shift again, turn more to the side; my belly isn’t nearly as flat at the bottom as it was before, and that part is definitely not just my imagination. I can feel it as I run my hand over the area. I wonder idly what it’ll feel like the further I get into the pregnancy.

“Occupied!” I yelp, but it’s too late: Liam’s already halfway into the bathroom. I drop my shirt down, hoping against hope that he hasn’t seen. “Dude, have you _never_ heard of knocking?”

“Sorry, sorry, I thought you were in the bedroom. Wha…?”

I squirm as he stares at me, and his eyes narrow in thought. When his jaw drops open, I realise he’s figured it out. To my surprise, all he does is hug me tightly and kiss my hair. Then he ushers me out of the bathroom.

I walk down the corridor to the living room with a small smile on my face. Louis gasps dramatically, bounces on his knees on the ottoman once I collapse to sprawl on the couch.

“Erin, please, c’mon! You _have_ to go with me, you’ll love this place!”

“Lou, last time I went out clubbing with you guys, I ended up all over the internet as a scandalous slut.” I wave lazily as Liam rejoins us with a snort at my words, then turn my attention back to the hyperactive Lou. “What do you think they’d say if I, a woman now _married_ to one of your closest friends, went out clubbing with you without Niall anywhere around?”

“Well, he can come, too.”

“I don’t want to,” Niall calls from the kitchen where he’s letting some peppermint tea steep; it’s been the only thing I’ve been able to tolerate with my nausea lately.

“Oh, come off it, why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

“Louis, please, just… not tonight.”

“One good reason, and I’ll drop it, I swear.” Louis’s lips jut out in a pout, and he clasps his hands under his chin. “Please, Erin? Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, plea -”

“Holy shit, dude, no! I’m pregnant!” I finally let out, frustrated and at the end of my patience, just as Niall shouts, “Mate, she’s pregnant, now stop!”

The silence that falls at our outbursts is deafening. Louis stares at me, eyes wide and mouth dropped open; Harry stops messing around with the kazoo in his hands. Only Liam looks unsurprised by the news.

I sigh, accepting the mug of tea Niall passes over, and slurp noisily to break up the awkward quiet. Niall shoots me a flat glare but doesn’t say anything. Eventually, Louis’s mouth shuts with a click of his teeth.

“Are you serious?” he breathes, and I nod, taking a quiet sip of my tea this time. “When are you due? Is it a boy or girl? When did it happen?”

I let Niall take over answering the questions, leaning back into the couch with my eyes closed. A tiny belch escapes me, and one of the others laugh. I ignore them and relax further. Though I can hear them talking, I’m more interested in getting some more rest. Growing a baby takes a lot out of a person.


	6. Chapter 6

I wring my hands in my lap as the Skype call connects. As soon as my mother’s face appears, I force a smile and hold up a finger; Niall’s mother still hasn’t accepted the call, and this isn’t something we can talk about without all of them present. The longer it takes for Maura to answer, the more my mother’s expression darkens.

I know it’s late, almost eleven at night in California, but it isn't like we wanted to be awake at just after six in the morning - it is literally the only time that Niall and I knew our parents would be awake at the same time. With a sigh, I finally drag my gaze away from the blank half of the screen.

“Hi, Mom. Where's Dad?”

“He's in the kitchen.” She pauses, calls over her shoulder that I'm on the computer. “He says he'll be here in just a second.”

Her words are cut off by the sudden appearance of Maura’s face on the screen, and we all exchange exuberant hellos. Niall finally joins me on the sofa, a cup of coffee in one hand and peppermint tea in the other. I take a sip from his coffee, sighing blissfully as I swallow.

He's only allowed me to have a few small drinks of coffee here and there since we got home; at first, I thought him getting me something to drink while he was already in the kitchen was sweet, thoughtful, but now? Now I know it for the life-ruining action that it is - he limits my caffeine intake. I don’t make a fuss out of it, though, just compromised that I get at least one mouthful of coffee every so often. He gladly conceded, and I’m still trying to figure out who won in that exchange.

I set his mug down on the coffee table by mine, grateful that he at least put them in matching cups so that it doesn’t cause our parents to question why I started drinking from one patterned cup just to drink from a differently-patterned one. His arm wraps around my shoulder, and I pull the laptop onto my thighs and lean back into him. Once we’re settled and my father has joined, Niall kisses my temple, murmuring a question into my skin.

“You ready?”

“Not really,” I breathe back, but his hand is warm, supportive, on mine, and I inhale unsteadily. “So, uh, I know it’s really early, Maura, and super-late for you two, Mom and Dad, and sorry about that, please don’t be angry, but Niall and I wanted to get you all on this call because it’s, well, it’s easier.”

I nudge Niall with my elbow. He lets out an “oh!”, reaches toward the table, and grabs the sonogram. He holds it up in front of the camera, and I watch as our parents move slightly closer to their screens to see it more clearly.

Maura’s hands clap over her mouth, and her eyes glimmer with tears in the glare of her computer screen. The speakers crackle with the volume of my dad’s cheering. My eyes land on my mother. Though she’s smiling at us, there is an odd edge to that smile, one that doesn’t seem to bode well to me. I force myself to listen to Niall’s mother as she finally speaks.

“Oh, loves, that’s wonderful! When are you due?”

“Uh, around the middle of June. It might change once I’m a little further along, but for now, that’s what the doctor said.”

“Where will you two live? What about music? And touring? Have you told your father yet? This is so wonderful! Can I tell your brother? Oh, he’s going to be so thrilled.”

Niall huffs out a laugh. “Ma, take a breath. We’re really excited about this, believe me. And I’m going to call both of them as soon as we’re done on here. As for your other questions, we’re going to finish the year here in London, then we’ll figure it out from there.”

**xx xx xx**

I glare at the numbers on my phone screen then groan quietly. I've been in bed for the last three hours, and I still haven't fallen asleep, even though it's after midnight. Niall’s arm slips from over my waist as I slide out of his grip; I watch him closely, hoping he doesn't wake. It's been a long day, and poor guy deserves his rest.

After we’d called our parents and told them the news, we spent a couple hours relaxing, curled up together on the couch as reruns played on the television. It was peaceful, just what I wanted. Then he called our friends to come help pack up our belongings in anticipation of the move.

We still haven't decided where exactly we will live, but he and I had agreed to figure it out by the time One Direction played their final show together. I hadn't been allowed to help much with anything except wrapping our dishes and glasses in bubble wrap. None of the boys would let me do more than that, all too worried about me overworking myself and harming the baby. My protests had gone largely unheard. So if I wrapped and packed slightly more petulantly than the actions warranted, I didn't care and I ignored them if they mentioned it.

The house is quiet, my footsteps seemingly thunderous as I tiptoe my way to the living room. Shadows fill the hallway and rooms, boxes stacked up and appearing almost frightening in the dark. With a sigh, I turn on the lamp still sitting on its table by the couch and check the time again.

My mom should be on her way home from work now, or out of class, at least. The line rings and rings and rings. Just when I think it is going to go to answerphone, there's a click, and her voice fills my ear.

“What are you doing awake, Erin? Isn't it almost one in the morning there?”

“Yeah, it-it is. But I can't sleep.”

“What's wrong, sweetheart?”

“You're not happy.”

She's quiet for a long moment; I can nearly hear her thoughts working around themselves to fit into place neatly. Finally, she clears her throat softly. “Of course I am. My baby is having a baby of her own.”

“Mom,” I groan through clenched teeth, “why are you lying to me?”

“What do you want me to say, Erin?” she asks, a heavy sigh staticking up the line.

“The truth, to start with. You think I'm making a mistake having this baby, don't you? Do… do you think my marriage is a mistake, too?” The hazy memory of her behaviour on my wedding day floats to mind, and I have a feeling I know what she’s going to say before she does.

“Honestly?” Another weighted exhale that sends my heart twisting in my chest. “Yes, I do. I think you two rushed into a marriage far too quickly. You both are too young to know whether the relationship itself would have worked.”

“We dated for two years before we got married! Besides, you and Dad got married when you were younger than I am!” I protest too loudly. I exhale sharply and cross the living room, peering around the corner. No sounds come from the bedrooms, so I go back to the couch, listen as my mother tries to justify her thinking.

“Because we had more experience. Before Niall, you'd never had any sort of long-term, serious, meaningful relationship. You dated occasionally, but never anything major. Then he came around, and bam, that was it. He treated you like shit, Erin, and you didn’t let that stop you from dating him. You _married_ him even after he cheated on you, for crying out loud!”

My throat tightens, aches, but I draw in a shaky breath. My voice is unsteady and thick when I finally manage to speak.

“Does it feel nice up there on that pedestal, Mom? Because if I remember correctly, Dad got you knocked up then spent five years giving you false hopes about having another baby, knowing it would never happen because he was cheating on you the entire time - Do _not_ interrupt me,” I snap when she tries to speak over me; my voice threatens to give out with my tears, but I press on, “then he fucking _abandoned_ us for thirteen years, and you took him back without even asking me, the child he walked away from so damn easily, all because he batted his fucking eyelashes and said sorry.”

“I forgave your father after a _lot_ of talks and soul-searching. It wasn't a quick decision, and -”

“And I forgave Niall, so you know what? Fuck you for trying to make me feel bad about a decision I made that makes me happy. Thanks, Mom, your support means so much,” I spit out venomously and jab angrily at the End button before I can hear her reply.

My blood roars in my ears, and I throw my phone onto the coffee table, ignoring the clatter as it slides across the surface. How dare my mother do this? Sure, I hadn't had many boyfriends before Niall, she was correct about that, but she has no right to act like everything I have with him means nothing just because of what she perceives as a lack of experience.

After the scandal with that girl shortly after Jem’s death, he has given me no reason to not trust him, he's never hurt me again. And he hadn’t even really cheated on me! We weren’t officially exclusive at the time, so he was free to do whatever with whomever. I can't believe she would act like her relationship with my father is so much better, especially when considering the fact he cheated on her repeatedly over the span of three years. Niall made a mistake _once_.

Angry, hurt sobs tear from me, and I cover my face with my hands, folding in on myself. Any joy I felt toward the pregnancy is drastically overwhelmed by the aftermath of the phone call. The couch cushion dips beside me; warm arms wrap tightly around me, and I lean into the comfort and safety of Niall as he lets me fall apart.

There is no contact with my mother over the next few weeks; my dad texts and FaceTimes me every chance he gets, always asking after the baby and whether I’m taking care of myself, but my mom seems to go out of her way to avoid talking to me. Not that I’m any better about it, really - I’m doing the same thing to her. I don’t want to revisit the emotions that I felt the night we argued, though it’s not easy to ignore how angry I still am with her.

Thankfully, packing and preparing for the move makes it easier to distract myself. Niall actually lets me do more than just wrap dishware - most likely because he knows my emotions right now are fragile, tumultuous things at best - but going through all of our clothes, folding what we want to keep and tossing clothes to donate to the side, isn’t exactly what I want.

It does feel pretty good, I have to admit, to put some organisation into our lives in the middle of the upheaval. Between the relocation, the pregnancy, and the fight with my mother, everything feels like it’s gone upside down with no warning.

I sigh and hold up the T-shirt in my hands. I can’t remember the last time I wore it, so I toss it into the pile next to me and reach for the next. The house we found in Los Angeles is going to be a change for both of us - he’s come home from tours to live in this current one since before we ever started dating, and I grew up in a simple two-storey home then shared an apartment with Amber. But we’d seen the photos online and both instantly fallen in love with it. I am most excited about the master bathroom, which I assume means I’m an actual adult now.

“Hey, petal.”

I set one of his jerseys into the keep pile and crane my head up to look at Niall over the bed. “Hi.”

“Wow, you’ve been productive.” He reaches down to carefully pull me to my feet, and I wrap an arm around his neck. The kiss we share is soft, warm. “Are you ready for some lunch?”

“I mean, if that’s all you’re offering, I suppose I can be persuaded to eat.”

He snorts in amusement, but it doesn’t hide the way his eyes darken. I stretch to capture his mouth with mine, and he gives in easily. I let myself forget everything else that’s going on in our lives, everything but the taste and feel of the man I married and love with all of my heart.


	7. Chapter 7

I lean into Niall’s side and close my eyes. We spent all day finishing up packing and making sure our belongings made it to the new house in one piece, and, as I have been for the last couple of months, I’m growing a baby. So all my energy is out the window right now. He huffs out a laugh when I push closer, his arm immediately coming up to wrap around my shoulders.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“No. I don’t wanna wake up so early,” I whine, pinching his side when he chuckles at my petulance. “It’s not funny, babe. I’m exhausted.”

“We can go to bed now if you want.”

“But, but _Great British Bake Off_!”

“Which we can watch on the flight in the morning.”

“But I wanna go to bed with happy, fuzzy feelings.”

“And being my wife and pregnant with our child doesn’t induce those feelings? Petal, I’m hurt.”

“Shut up, asshole. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.” He kisses my temple then gently moves me aside so he can stand. “Tea?”

I pout and grumble out a request for water. I am so incredibly sick of peppermint tea, considering it is practically all I’ve been drinking since my tour finished. Niall’s lips twist into a sympathetic smile, but he doesn’t say anything else, heading to the kitchen. I grab the pillow I brought from the bedroom, tuck it closely to my chest, and flop to the side to watch Mel and Sue talking to the contestants.

“Love? It’s time to wake up, c’mon.”

“Five more minutes,” I mumble, burying my face into the pillow, and Niall laughs softly.

“No doin’, darling, you said that five minutes ago. We’ve got a flight to get ready for.”

Whining even as I push myself to sit up, I let him haul me to my feet. He pushes a mug into my hands, and my groaning gets louder at the aroma of peppermint spiralling from the top. He has the patience of a saint as he reminds me that I usually get nauseous within the first hour of being awake and we probably won’t be able to get more than a ginger ale on the plane - which doesn’t work, I’ve tried. I reluctantly accept his logic, taking a sip, then hand him the drink before shuffling down the hall to the bathroom.

My body aches this morning; having fallen asleep on the couch is proving to have no benefits for this whole “human incubator” thing, especially when adding in the constant exhaustion. According to Doctor Garnett, who I just saw a couple of weeks ago, it should get easier to handle the hormone changes and all that by the start of the second trimester, although he was reluctant to even imply any sort of promise. Then again, he wasn’t pleased with the fact that I would be flying overseas at fifteen-weeks and moving to the United States. To be fair, I can’t blame him: The US health-care system sucks.

I hurry through brushing my teeth and using the toilet, though it seems to take eons for my bladder to finally feel empty. Once done, I wash my hands then make my way back out to the kitchen. Niall passes me my mug while finishing up putting away the kettle. I lean against the counter and drink the tea slowly, my gaze following my husband as he moves about the kitchen.

There is hardly anything left to do besides grab our bags on our way out the door, but Niall continues to find things to occupy himself. I know how nervous he is, so I don’t try to convince him to relax. He takes away my worries by shouldering all the worries and responsibilities, and as much as I want to take away the stress, I can’t. All I can do is try to make things easier on him.

“I love you.”

He freezes in the middle of taping up the box meant for storage at his mother’s, lips slowly curving into a sweet smile. “I love you, too.”

“Come here.”

“Can I -?”

“No. You can’t. Come here.”

Huffing out a laugh, he drops the roll of tape and strides across the kitchen. I set my mug aside, loop my arms around his shoulders as soon as he’s close enough. He rests his forehead against mine, and I swallow past the lump in my throat. _Fuckin’ emotions_ , I think as I stretch up on my toes to kiss him gently.

“Thank you so fucking much for everything you’ve done for us, for me. I can’t ever tell you how much it means to me that you’ve loved me the way you have for the last three years. You’re going to be such a wonderful dad, and our kid? Luckiest little one in the entire galaxy. And I’m insanely lucky to have you in my life. Thank you.”

“Is everything okay?”

I shake my head, grinning up at him. “It’s perfect. Everything is absolutely perfect.”

Watching the house disappear from view behind us is painful, bittersweet. So many memories have been made in that house - our first kiss, our first time, our first anniversary… We have a lot to look forward to now, between the baby and our careers, but it’s hard to leave behind what we’ve had.

I turn back around to face the front of the taxi, and Niall’s hand tightens around mine, reassuring me that he’s still right here with me. I let my head drop to his shoulder and breathe out slowly. It does nothing to dispel the lump in my throat, the tightening of my chest, and the fluttering of nerves in my gut. The cabbie glances in the rear-view mirror, smiles when our eyes meet. I grin back, then sigh blissfully, close my eyes.

**[-_-_-_-]**

“Welcome home!”

Amber throws her arms around my shoulders, yanking me in for a tight hug. I giggle wildly and sniffle as tears fill my eyes. It’s been almost two months since I’ve seen my best friend, and I nearly choke on the emotions that well up inside. Warm hands on my shoulders pull me away from her, and I don’t get the chance to protest before Liam is embracing me.

“Okay, so everything is inside, and I’ve got a lot of the dishes put away.” Amber removes two keys from her keyring, passing one to Niall and the other to me. “I had Brett run to get some breakfast, he should be back soon.”

I nearly melt at the thought of food; though I know I’ll regret trying to eat anything, I’m hungrier than I’ve been in a long time. “You’re a fucking godsend.”

“Hey, this house isn’t gonna get itself set up!”

“Oh, my gods, Bryan is here?”

“And she’s off,” Liam mutters as I hurry up the sidewalk to the front door.

True to my prediction, I only manage to swallow three bites of my breakfast sandwich before the nausea kicks in. Amber hands me a peppermint candy, her face twisting up in sympathy. We’ve found it isn’t quite as effective of the tea, but it does well enough to ease the upset of my stomach. I suck on the candy as I make my way through the house, leaving my loved ones sat on the dining room floor.

The house is much prettier in person: Bright morning sunlight streams through the large windows, making the rooms appear more open. As I go room to room, I conjure up images of what our home will look like once everything is set up properly. The last room upstairs brings me to a slow stop, and I walk to the centre of the room, let my head fall back, and unthinkingly start going through the musical scales.

My voice echoes quite nicely in the space, and it only solidifies my belief that _this_ is the perfect room room for our music endeavours. It’s easy to imagine where everything will go, guitars against the far wall and piano by the window. I pace around the room and try to figure out an organisation system; between my husband and myself, we have over thirty different guitars, and while I love him to pieces, he is not allowed to touch mine.

My thoughts are interrupted by footsteps nearing the room. I turn to see Niall in the doorway, smiling softly at me. He comes to my side when I wiggle my fingers in his direction, and I lean heavily into his side. I know that soon enough, we will have to focus on the nursery, but it’s a distant worry in my mind.

“Music room?” Niall murmurs softly, and I shiver as his breath ghosts along my skin.

“Music room.”

“I’ll go tell the others then.”

“Ni -”

“The quicker we get this room set up, the quicker you have something to do while we bring in the furniture.”

“I can’t do _any_ thing?”

“Of course you can, darling.” His hands rest on my shoulders, and hope blooms to life at the sweet smile he gives me. “You can play Doris and relax.”

“I hate you, go away.”

His laughter is bright, infectious, and I find myself giggling along even as he steers me from the room. Amber keeps me distracted in the kitchen, the both of us working together to finish putting away the rest of the dishware that she hadn’t gotten to yet. We sing along to her Pandora as it plays through Blind Melon’s discography.

“And when your deepest thoughts are broken, keep on dreaming, boy. ‘Cause when you stop dreamin’ it’s time to die.”

“And on that rather maudlin note, it’s time for me to interrupt.”

“Goddamn it, Liam!” I throw a dishtowel in his direction then lean against the counter, crossing my arms over my chest. My chest physically aches from the fright. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people and scare them like that.”

“I’m sorry, love. Niall just sent me down here to let you know that the room is somewhat set up, so you can go relax.”

Sighing, I scratch at my eyebrow before letting my hand fall to the gentle curve of my belly. “I don’t need to relax. I need to do something. It’s not going to do any harm at all if I help unpack.”

“Come here.” Liam steps closer and holds me tightly to his chest. “He’s just worried, that’s all. He doesn’t want to risk anything happening to either you or that baby. Just… let him be overprotective, yeah?”

“Shut up. Fine. But if it gets worse, I’m sending him to live with _you_ until this baby is ready to be evicted from my uterus.”

His and Amber’s laughter follows me through the house, and I count it as a victory even as I climb the stairs. By the time I reach the landing, my breathing is unsteady; I make a mental note to start going for walks or something, or this pregnancy might actually force me to sleep on the couch.

The room is… it’s a mess. Honestly, it is. An armchair sits by the window, leaving just enough space for the piano when it arrives, and large boxes make a path through the room. My favourite guitar is already in its stand nearest the chair. I squeak happily and make my way to the gorgeous, beat-up beauty. Tuning the strings is familiar, easy, and I settle into the plush cushion of the chair before strumming the beginning notes of _Long Way Down_.


	8. Chapter 8

The carrot breaks off with a crunch between my teeth, and I settle further into the rocking chair as I listen to my husband grumbling angrily under his breath. He’s been trying to put together the crib for the last hour, but his frustration has made the task damn near impossible.

Louis had promised to come over for breakfast and to help get the nursery half of our bedroom set up even though there are still five months before my due date; he’d sent a text to Niall an hour and a half ago, saying something had come up and he won’t be able to provide any assistance. I think the fact that he bailed and did so in a text message without an apology of any sorts combined with the fact that Niall only has another day before he leaves again, which is why he’s so grumpy right now.

I dip another carrot in the bowl of ranch dressing, but before I take a bite, I clear my throat quietly. Niall doesn’t even look away from the instruction booklet in his hands. I resist the urge to roll my eyes - or throw a carrot at him.

“I could always help, you know.”

“Love, you’re doing enough. I mean, your body is literally growing another human being. So you just sit there and relax.”

“I have loads more time before I’m due, which means I’m able-bodied enough to put together a crib.” When he merely shakes his head, I sigh. “I’m sorry Lou ditched out.”

“Don’t even mention that dick to me right now,” he mutters before throwing the booklet aside and reaching for an Allen wrench.

I stifle a giggle and go back to eating my snack, occasionally stealing glances at him. His brows are drawn together over his narrowed eyes, his lips pulled down into a scowl. When I can no longer stand the sound of his low curses and quiet rantings, I roll my eyes and grab my phone, opening Pandora.

The familiar sound of _The Chain_ starting immediately puts a smile on my face, and I tap my foot along to the beat. Niall glares at me through his lashes but doesn’t say anything; I know he’s just annoyed at Lou and not me or the fact that one of his favourite bands is coming from the speakers - and therefore, easing some of his irritation, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it.

I know I can always finish unpacking the few boxes that still remain, though we’ve been working on settling into the new house over the last three days, but I really don’t want to. Since our friends had helped get the house set up as soon as we arrived, all that is left are mostly decorative things.

My phone buzzes on my thigh, and I glance down at it, nearly choking on the chunk of carrot I’m chewing when I read the notification, a text from Natalie bearing the name of a hospital and the word “ _Now!!_ ”

“Well, I’m gonna let you have your fun, babe, but I’ll be back later. I love you.”

I kiss away any words he plans on saying, though it doesn’t stop him from protesting and calling after me as I rush from the room. I barely stop to put my dishes in the kitchen sink before I’m heading to the door to shove my feet into a pair of flats.

A smile plays at the edges of my lips when I grab the keys from the hook on the wall; Bryan finally went home for a couple of days to spend time with his wife now that Niall is back, which means I get to drive again. Niall’s voice echoes in the hall, but I’m out the door before he can set foot on the bottom stair.

I manage to reach the hospital in what feels like record time, and I put the car in park, grab my beanie from the middle console, and slide out of the driver’s seat while jamming it onto my head - I hadn’t bothered with changing out of the yoga pants and old T-shirt I wore to bed last night, and brushing my hair had seemed like too much effort when pitted against spending some much-needed quality time with the husband I haven’t seen in weeks. Now, I’m oddly thankful for my unkempt appearance; it keeps people from recognising me as I find a seat in the waiting lobby.

Scrolling mindlessly through Instagram - the one social media site I actively keep up with any more outside of random Twitter Q&As - proves boring after twenty minutes. It’s nice enough, I suppose, to be able to see photos of friends and family I don’t talk to regularly, but there’s only so many times a person can see the same selfie angle before they start screaming for a change.

I do leave a few comments on various posts before I close out of the app, replacing it with Tricky Taps. I’ve beaten four levels by the time someone sits next from me. I pause the game before looking up, a grin splitting my face when I see Garrett. He looks good, healthy, excited. His arm comes up to wrap around my shoulder, tugging me carefully into his side.

“Well, well, look who it is, Miss ‘I got married and no longer have any time for the most awesome dude in the world’.”

“Actually, it’s _Mrs_ ‘I got married and am pregnant so I have no time for _any_ body, let alone the most awesome dude in the world’.” I laugh and poke his cheek. “Hi, Gare. How are ya?”

“Can’t complain. Been here long?”

I shrug, glancing down at my phone, and calculate the difference in time. “Only about forty minutes. You’d think Nat would be rushing through labour, considering that girl never slows down.”

“I... think you might need some parenting classes, because that’s not how delivery works.”

“You shouldn’t be mean to pregnant ladies, Garrett.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever see a pregnant lady.”

“Are you saying I’m not a lady?” I ask in mock-outrage, clapping my hand to my chest as I pout dramatically. “Why, I never!”

Garrett shakes his head and tugs on the front of my beanie, effectively obscuring my vision. My giggles break loose, and I fix my cap. Time drags by as we wait; when I look at the numbers on my screen an hour later, it’s to find that it’s really only been twenty minutes. Sighing, I catch Garrett’s eye.

“Dude, I’m fucking bored.”

“Shall we play a game?”

“Creepy, but yes. Categories?” At his nod, I shift in my chair to get more comfortable - fat chance of that, but it’s worth a try - and rack my brain for a topic to start us off. “Okay, first. No super-common answers. I want a challenge. So we can’t use, like, cat or dog for an animal. Capisce? The category is... hygiene.”

“Shampoo. Wait! No, that’s too easy. Water pik.”

“Damn, good one. Uh, body scrubs.”

We continue in this fashion for another six answers. To my chagrin, I’m the one who can’t come up with another item, and Garrett does a little celebratory dance in his seat. He chooses the next category - musical instruments - and almost immediately fails on his third guess: He says flute at first then concedes the victory to me when he can’t think of anything, and I call out “ocarina!” and dissolve into giggles.

The double-doors swing open, and we turn as one to see Sutton coming through. Affectionately known as “Goose”, mostly by Natalie, he is one of the last people I would have expected to see here right now. I knew he and Nat started dating after Silent Playground did a tour with his band Devotion, before SP went on hiatus. But still, having him stood just past the doors is startling. I never anticipated she would want him in the room.

I exchange a look with Garrett before pushing to my feet. “Uh, Sutton? You good?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, I’m - I’m fine.” The rattled, almost queasy expression doesn’t leave his face, but he does force a smile. It isn’t much of an improvement. “She’s, um, she’s done. Doing... _that_. So...”

I stifle my laughter - poor guy, having to witness childbirth. It does make me wonder, though, what his intentions are with my best friend. Does this mean they’re more serious than I thought? Pushing the thoughts aside, I grab up my purse and lay a hand on Garrett’s arm as he goes to pass me.

“Tell the crazy one I’ll be there in a minute, okay? I have to do something first.”

“I’ll text you the room number,” he promises then follows Sutton back through the doors.

I make my way down a corridor going the opposite direction until I reach the gift shop. Dozens of stuffed animals line one section of the wall inside, and I stare at the variety. Blue elephant, pink bunny, brown dog, white flamingo, and - there. I grab the little teddy bear from the shelf, heading to the till. The teenager behind the counter passes over the receipt with a bored “Have a good day, ma’am”.

Garrett has texted by the time I exit the gift shop, so I stop by a nurse’s desk to ask where to find Room 116. Even with his directions, I somehow manage to get lost and have to stop and ask a passing nurse for help. She doesn’t seem to mind; her lack of reaction makes me wonder how often she has to direct people on top of doing the job she gets paid for.

Knocking softly on the door, I push on the handle until there’s a crack between wood and metal frame. Nat sounds exhausted as she calls out for me to enter. My steps falter when I step fully into the room.


	9. Chapter 9

“Lou? What are you - oh, my gods, are you fucking serious?”

“Shh!” he hisses with a quick glance at the baby in Garrett’s arms.

“Dude. _Dude_. No. I am absolutely allowed to be shocked!” I protest even while I inch closer to the newborn. If it were possible, my heart would be a puddle of goop on the floor when I catch sight of the disgruntled expression on the tiny face. “So Lou’s a daddy, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m a daddy.”

The pride in his voice brings a smile to my face, and I hurry to douse my hands with sanitiser before crossing the room to kiss first Natalie’s cheek then his. Sutton stands awkwardly off to the side. I hand the gift bag to Nat, murmuring a congratulations, then point at Louis.

“I’ll be quiet, but only because I wanna love on that darling baby. But Louis William Tomlinson, we are so talking about this later.”

My moments are clumsy and stilted when I take the baby from Garrett. Whispering softly to the fidgeting baby until he settles down, I rock back and forth, and my eyes burn with tears when I look up at Natalie.

“Natty, he’s perfect. What’s his name?”

Her gaze cuts to Garrett for a split second, then she smiles tiredly. “Levi Garrett Tomlinson.”

“Wait, _what_?”

That explains why Garrett looks as if his mind has been blown. Natalie naming her kid after both Garrett and his late grandfather… It’s amazing. I coo down at the baby, with his chubby cheeks and tiny nose and delicate brows; Sutton helps guide me to the sofa along the wall, steadying me as I lower myself to the cushions. I run a finger along Levi’s cheek.

“He’s perfect, holy shit. Yes, you’re perfect, Mister Levi. Hi there. I’m your aunt Erin, and I am going to be your most favourite person ever. I have a lot to teach you about making mischief, so keep that in mind whenever you wanna cause trouble for your mom and dad, okay?”

Louis ducks down to whisper something into Natalie’s ear, then he’s gone. Garrett and Sutton start up a conversation between themselves; I carefully rise to my feet and sit on the bed. Nat rests her head against my shoulder, and we stare down at her son.

“Thanks for this,” she says softly, holding up the yellow bear I bought.

“No problem, babe. He has to get a first stuffed animal, so why not let it be from me? And hey, thanks for giving me such an adorable nephew to spoil rotten.”

The air between us goes silent then, interrupted only by the quiet talking from the couch. I chew on my lower lip for a moment before drawing in a steadying breath, asking what childbirth is like with far less confidence than I’d prefer. In true Nat fashion, she doesn’t sugarcoat anything. I’m just glad she doesn’t make it sound utterly horrifying.

The thought of labour is a daunting one, and I’ve had multiple nightmares since I found out I’m pregnant about the delivery going wrong - or that I can’t do it and end up keeping the kid inside of me for years. Those are the worst.

I force away the fear that wells up inside, the dark nebulous cloud of doubt and panic that threatens to consume me. I can deal with it later. I know it will reappear as soon as I’m not distracted by the baby currently cradled in my arms.

Louis comes back into the room after another ten minutes of me whispering to Levi, a mantra of _I’m your favourite, I’m your favourite, I’m your favourite_. I resist commenting on the subtle twitch in Louis’s face when he sees Sutton again. Maybe it’s because I know Lou so well that I can read him like a book, that I know how hard it’s been on him to have had to deal with the fallout from the dissolved marriage. That I can see the jealousy whenever he looks at Sutton. Louis and Nat may be on friendly terms now, but that doesn’t erase the feelings they had for each other before.

I shift Levi in my arms, giggling quietly when he lets out a quiet grunt. Natalie tells me in an undertone that she and Louis had talked about trying at a relationship again but decided not to. I understand their reason of not wanting to force it, but the way she says it is nonchalant, like it isn’t a whole entire Thing that’s been kept from our friend group.

“I have a question. Why didn’t you tell me? I’m not angry, just curious.”

“We just had… other priorities, and it didn’t seem important at the time,” she replies breezily with a shrug. “I mean, I _was_ incubating a live human, Erin!”

“Well, I am, too! But I guess that’s why I can understand why you’ve kept it to yourselves, now that you put it that way. Okay,” I say on a slow breath, staring down at Levi as he sleeps against my chest. “I’m still kinda upset that you never told me - about any of this, really - but I can’t be too upset, because holy shit, Nat, he’s such a gorgeous baby.” My gaze cuts to Louis. “Let’s just hope he stays that way, and by that, I mean let’s hope he takes after his mommy and not his daddy.”

Louis gasps and, amid the laughter from everyone in the room, he splutters, “Hey! Rude! You can’t be rude to the brand-new father!”

“I just had to push that thing out of my vagina because of you, Tomlinson. My friend can say whatever she wants,” declares Natalie.

I giggle and blow a kiss to Levi before passing him back to his mother. Louis pouts but still allows me to embrace him tightly. I give his cheek a gentle pat, smile up at him.

“Whatever, asshole. You can be just as rude to Niall in, oh, five or so months. Then we’ll be even.”

“No, we won’t. We won’t be anywhere near close. Being rude to Nialler isn’t the same as being rude to _you_!”

I snort. “Oh, Tommo, you actually think he won’t complain to me about you being rude to him? Trust me, that’s punishment enough, thanks.”

Embracing Sutton then Garrett, I make my way across the room. Their laughter fades, grows muffled, as the door closes behind me. Pride is a heady thing in my chest as I amble through the halls.

I’m almost surprised at how well I have kept the pregnancy secret for Natalie; rarely do I have to keep knowledge of this magnitude to myself, and I’ve hated not telling Niall everything. But I’ve done it. I kept the secret even from my husband.

Voices filter through the doors I pass, someone cries inside a darkened room, and the speaker overhead occasionally squeals before making an announcement. It’s so hard to believe that I’m going to be doing the same thing Natalie just did in a few short months.

A fluttering kicks up in my belly as a wave of nervousness crashes over me. Can I even do this? It’s obviously too late to decide I can’t, but it does nothing to make me feel any less anxious about childbirth and what comes after. Natalie hadn’t put me at ease about the whole process, though to be honest, I don’t think anything could ease my worries at this point.

“Hey, babe, I’m home. You kill the crib yet?”

“Where’d you run off to?”

I shriek when Niall’s voice comes from much closer than I expected, whirling on my heel to see him sprawled on the sofa. At least he has the decency to look sheepish at the fact he scared me. He holds open his arms in apology.

I kick my flats off my feet, pad barefoot into the living room, and drop onto the couch next to him. The warmth and scent of him wrap around me, and I sigh blissfully, my entire body relaxing almost instantly.

We don’t speak for a long while, too busy enjoying our cuddles, but then I realise something: This is the first time I’ve learnt something about Louis before Niall has. I wiggle where I lie and grin smugly. Niall pulls his head back to stare down at me.

“Something you wanna share, petal?”

“Nope!” I mime zipping my lips closed. “I can’t tell you, so don’t try to get it out of me.”

After lying there with him for twenty minutes, I yawn widely and shove to my feet, padding to the kitchen. The carrots I ate earlier seem so long ago, and I’m ravenous again. Rummaging through the cabinets yields very little results. My craving is very particular - something salty and savoury, definitely, but no other clues as to what will satisfy said craving.

I’ve just pulled a bag of pretzels from the cabinet when a strangle noise comes from the living room. I turn just as Niall storms into the room.

“Natalie had a _baby_?”

I hesitate then nod, raising my hands in an attempt to look innocent. “Surprise?”

“Why didn’t you tell me she was even pregnant? Did you know?”

“Yeah, I found out when she and I Skyped and I accidentally told her _I_ was pregnant,” I admit, and his stormy expression grows darker. “She didn’t want anyone else to know! She’s one of my best friends. I wasn’t gonna blab her shit. Her business is hers, no matter if I know or not.”

“And when did you find out Louis was the father?”

“That was a total surprise to me, too. She didn’t tell me that at all. I learnt it when I went to the hospital to visit.”

_Ah, fuck_ , my brain whispers as he throws his hands into the air and stomps out of the kitchen. The pretzels go neglected while I follow him. He shoots me a dark look and lifts his phone to his ear. I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the wall, watch him pace through the living room. He shoves his hand through his hair then exhales sharply.

“Why am I finding out about your kid via Natalie’s post?” he says suddenly, nearly shouting, then he visibly regains control over himself. His fingers press against his closed eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me yourself? What the Hell, Lou? Congratulations! I’m so happy for you both. Levi is absolutely beautiful, and I can’t wait to meet him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go yell at my pregnant wife for getting to see Levi before I did. Love you, mate, let’s get together soon.”

“Yell at your pregnant wife?”

Niall tosses his phone onto the coffee-table, sighing, and hesitates but ultimately turns to me. There is no longer any sign of anger on his face; some irritation, sure, but no outright anger. He holds out a hand after a moment, and I smile to myself and step closer.

His arms wrap around me, holding me close. My head falls forward to rest on his shoulder, and he kisses my hair softly. I know he wasn’t planning to actually raise his voice at me, but there was still the slightest hint of fear that he would find this secret-keeping thing too much to deal with right now and leave.

My heart finally settles beneath my ribs as I relax into his touch. Eventually, he tightens his grip, tugs me toward the couch, and I let him pull me down to lie next to him. It isn’t long before my stomach reminds me that I still haven’t eaten again. His laugh is soft, sweet, as he climbs to his feet and heads to the kitchen with a stern order for me to stay where I am.

“Baby wants peanut butter and ice cream! And pickles!” I call out, giggling at his noise of disgust. To push my luck and hear him gag again, I continue, “Together!”


	10. Chapter 10

  


Sighing softly, I burrow further into the warmth against my back and try to go back to sleep. I hadn’t tossed and turned all night like I have been lately, but I’m still so exhausted. Niall makes a snuffling noise, his arm tightening around me, and I shiver as his breath skates across the back of my neck. A smile tugs at the corners of my lips, the comfort of having him home filling me.

Unfortunately, I know I’m going to have to get out of bed within the next twenty minutes - the fact that I’m comfortable evidently means very little to the tiny baby currently demanding sustenance. Moving from Niall’s arms, however, means the day is going to start, and that means saying goodbye again is on the horizon. I know he really deserves the break from the spotlight for a bit, but what can I say - I’m a selfish creature.

He only came back for a couple of days after visiting for almost two weeks. Almost immediately after he showed up at her house, Maura had called me, upset that I hadn’t joined him. I’d nearly cried at the tone of her voice, which made the both of us feel worse - her for making me think she was mad at me, and me for making her feel guilty.

She understood, though, after I explained it had little to do with me not wanting to see them. I just can’t handle an eleven-hour-long flight without puking right now. I’d promised her that the instant I’m able, I will be on the very first plane to Mullingar to visit. It’ll be nice, I think, to spend time with my in-laws on their turf for once.

“I can hear your thoughts racing,” my husband mumbles against my hair, his voice thick with sleep and his accent muddled.

I bite my lip, whispering, “When did you become a psychic?”

“I’m not, I just know you that well.” He kisses my shoulder and pushes himself to sit upright with a soft grunt. “What time is it?”

I reach for my phone on the nightstand, press the button so the screen lights up. He groans when he sees the numbers proclaiming it’s barely past seven, and I roll over to face him. I’m going to miss him while he’s gone again - the soft smiles, the way his eyes display what he’s feeling so easily, the gentle kisses… The fact that he’s all mine and will be until we die.

I will never understand how I got so lucky, but I’m not going to question it. I drag my finger over the stubble along his jaw, pout when I realise he’s most likely going to shave as soon as he gets out of bed.

“You can go back to sleep, babe.”

He shakes his head. “I’m okay. I know you won’t be coming back to bed.” He tugs me closer, kisses me softly, murmuring, “and what good is sleeping in if your lovely, wonderful, amazing, pregnant wife isn’t there with you?”

“Mm, you’re such a sweet-talker, Horan. And as much as I’d love to spend the next few hours in bed with you, and believe me when I say I’d love nothing more, your child is not quite so amenable to those plans. So what sounds good for breakfast?”

“Why is the baby only _mine_ when it’s inconveniencing your plans?” he grumbles, but the mischievous gleam in his eyes is proof that he doesn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“Because _you_ inconvenienced a lot of my plans. I was content with knowing you but not liking you, and then you had to burrow under my skin and into my heart. Sure, it ended up damn perfect, considering I have you for the rest of my life, and now we’re gonna have a baby. But still, the point remains, so of course your child will take after you and do the same.”

“And you call me a sweet-talker,” he huffs, rubbing his thumb over my cheekbone. “So what does _my_ child want?”

“Bacon. Lots of bacon.”

Niall laughs and shakes his head, but he doesn’t stop me from shoving the blankets back and scooting to the edge of the bed. I pad down the hallway, shivering at the coolness of the wood floor beneath my bare feet.

The sound of the pipes starting up follows me down the stairs; I shake away the mental images of my husband nude and soaking wet. It isn’t the time right now, not with the way my stomach sounds like it’s trying to eat the rest of my innards.

I manage to not burn myself terribly while the eggs and bacon cook, though there is a sensitive spot on my thumb from a particularly hot bit of grease, and Niall joins me in the kitchen by the time it’s done. He takes the platter to the table while I grab the bag of grapes and the pitcher of juice from the fridge. We eat in silence, side-by-side, as the kitchen steadily fills with the warm sunlight of the morning.

Niall doesn’t let me get up even once we’ve finished eating. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulls me into his side; kissing my temple gently, he murmurs an _I love you_ into my skin.

My eyes burn with impending tears. I sniffle as quietly as I can, but of course he hears it. He hooks a finger under my chin and turns my face toward him.

“I don’t have to go.”

“Niall, yes. Go. I’ll be fine.” I wipe at my cheeks with trembling fingers. “It’s the damn hormones, I swear.”

“Love…”

“It’s okay. I promise. Go, have fun, see all the sights you didn’t get to before, then come back home to me.”

“I always will.”

To my surprise, he leaves the dishes on the table as he steers me toward the living room. His arms are strong, steady, warm, and I lean against his chest. There’s no music, but that doesn’t stop him from swaying, from dancing without moving his feet, pulling me to move with him.

I can’t stop the tears from slipping down my cheeks; no matter what I told him, having him gone is going to suck so much. The only reason I’ve been able to get through the last few months is because of him. Because he’s been by my side.

Our hours together come to a close, signalled by the insistent beeping of his phone’s alarm. Niall hesitates at the door, bag by his feet, and I shrug awkwardly. It seems to break the tension between us. He pulls me in for a tight hug, and I pretend I don’t notice the way his shoulders are shaking under my arms.

When he steps back, I give him as real of a smile as I possibly can with my heart breaking; he kisses me softly then drops to his knees to rest his forehead against my belly. I slide my fingers through his hair, swallow thickly.

“Be nice to your mum, little one. I love you.”

I stand in the doorway, wave once he’s in the Uber, and watch as the better half of me disappears. I sigh and close the door before the passersby on the sidewalk catch sight of me and start gawking. The house is too quiet without anything to distract me from my loneliness. My hand falls to my belly, and I blink back tears. Being alone hasn’t ever bothered me before.

Now? Now it’s a miserable experience.

I exhale sharply and make my way to the kitchen where my phone is vibrating on the counter. Glancing at the screen, I decide to ignore the call. Talking to Amber right now isn’t high on my list of priorities, no matter how much I love her. I tell Siri to open Pandora as soon as the call goes to answerphone. Cleaning up after breakfast takes surprisingly little time, considering how easily I get lost in thought.

“Wait a fucking second,” I mutter to myself as an errant realisation slams into my brain, scooping up my phone and rapidly typing out a message.

> **To: Nat-boo**  
>  _MY WEDDING?!?! Seriously?!!!!_
> 
> **From: Nat-boo**  
>  _What can I say? It was a beautiful ceremony._
> 
> **To: Nat-boo**  
>  _I’m not sure if I should feel complimented or freaked that you two did the do AT MY FUCKING WEDDING NATALIE_
> 
> **From: Nat-boo**  
>  _Would you have felt better if we had named him after you guys?_
> 
> **To: Nat-boo**  
>  _……….no and how dare you scar me like that, you asshole_
> 
> **From: Nat-boo** _The last shred of hope I can offer you is that we at least waited til we were at my hotel._
> 
> **To: Nat-boo**  
>  **<** _I guess that’s good enough for me._  
>  **<** _Except now I’m always gonna know you two did the horizontal tango and made a baby because of my wedding_  
>  **<** _Anniversaries will never be the same…._
> 
> **From: Nat-boo**  
>  _You’re welcome_

> **To: Ni-baby**  
>  _Natalie and Louis are gross and disgusting and will never ever be allowed in our house until they make up for the fact that Levi?? Totally conceived at our wedding._
> 
> **From: Ni-baby**  
>  _Are you kidding me ???_

I screenshot the conversation with Natalie and attach it to a text to Niall. His response is a stream of emojis: angry, wide-eyed, crying, and cry-laughing. I stifle a laugh and shake my head, sending _I miss you already_ as I make my way upstairs to change into a clean pair of leggings and one of his sweaters.

Once I’m wrapped in the scent of my husband, I head to our music room - management still wants me in the studio in a couple of days, and while I’ve tinkered with some melodies over the last few weeks, I haven’t actually sat down and written anything that’s worthy of being recorded. At least I’ll have the rest of the band to help with that at the studio.

“Hey, you home?”

I laugh and continue strumming, listening as multiple sets of feet near the room. Harry appears in the doorway first, his dimpled grin on display, followed by Amber. She presses a kiss to my forehead on her way to perch on the stool by the window while Harry reaches for one of the acoustics resting in its stand. His fingers pick at the strings lazily; I shake my head but focus on the tune that’s taken over my brain, coming out in the strings.

“Niall left, I take it.”

“Yeah, a couple hours ago.” I sigh, slow my movements. “It sucks. I thought we’d be used to it by now, y’know? The whole having to deal with the separation and being alone thing. I dunno why it’s so awful now.”

“Probably because you’re carrying his kid,” replies Amber, and Harry nods along enthusiastically.

“Who knew pregnancy would change things so much.”

“Literally everyone who’s ever experienced pregnancy in any form.”

“Shut up,” I grumble, throwing my pick at Harry’s face, scowling when my friends only laugh harder.


	11. Chapter 11

I run a hand through my hair, sighing when the breeze just pushes it all right back into my face. Bryan snorts next to me, and I glare up at him through my sunglasses. His hand squeezes my shoulder comfortingly. It’s been five days since Niall left to finish out his vacation, and I’ve not slept very well at all since then. My temper has grown shorter with the lack of sleep and influx of hormones, to everyone’s disgruntlement.

“Can’t believe you wore that shirt,” Zach comments lightly, holding the door open so Bryan and I can enter the studio.

I glance down at the T-shirt and giggle. It was a gift from Louis, something to commemorate the anniversary of our kiss outside the club when Complete Irrationality toured with One Direction. He claims it was meant only as a joking reminder that I can no longer drink, but I actually really do love the shirt regardless of the intentions. It’s hilarious and definitely Louis. I pat Zach’s shoulder on my way past him.

“You’re just jealous I get Tommo’s face all up on my body, Hudson.”

“Oh, definitely. So jealous. Ya caught me.”

The rest of the band is already inside the studio by the time we join them. I sit down on the couch next to Owen, swiping his drumsticks and tapping them on my kneecaps. He growls playfully and takes them back. Thankfully, Lisa distracts me by passing over my guitar, and I shift so I have room to settle it across my thighs, take the pick from Tanner, and glance up at the group.

“So, uh… let’s get going.”

****

**___________**

> **Baby Horan on the Way?!**  
>  By: Liza Collins  
>  27 January, 2016
> 
> _Anyone who has been a fan of One Direction at any point in the last six years knows that the one and only Niall Horan tied the knot back in April of 2015 to none other than Erin McCarty, former-guitarist for Complete Irrationality turned soloist. They started dating a few years ago, though no one is really certain on the exact timeline - and without any confirmation from the two lovebirds, we’re not liable to know that information any time soon!_
> 
> _Erin was spotted going into the studio just a couple of days ago to begin recording her second full-length album (title TBA), and there was a very noticeable change to her body: She seems to be sporting a baby belly! And judging by the size, she’s at least a couple of months along. A source close to the couple reached out to us and said, “Yeah, she’s absolutely over the moon! She’s so excited and dead-set on it being a girl. Niall is just as happy. They’re both going to be amazing parents.”_
> 
> _There has been no word from either McCarty or Horan, or their respective management companies, so this is unconfirmed at the moment, but much like Shakira’s hips, that belly don’t lie._

I scoff and close out of the tab. Of course I was papped while walking into the studio. That comes with the territory. I’m kind of upset the only photo they managed to get was at an awful angle.

If they’d gotten a better picture from the front, they would have been able to see Louis’s face stretched across my shirt - I would kill to know what their reactions would have been. Probably a lot of outrage and an influx of name-calling, primarily that I’m a whore.

 _Worth it_ , I think as I scratch idly at the side of my nose, making a mental note to do a face mask soon. My pores are getting out of control. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I debate ignoring it. But then I remember it could be Niall, so I reluctantly pick it up to read the text.

> **From: Ni-baby**  
>  _> Just heard . Guess the secret's out. . ._
> 
> **To: Ni-baby**  
>  _< Yeah, guess it is._  
>  _< How do we want to handle this?_
> 
> **From: Ni-baby**  
>  _> I honestly have no idea. We could just ignore it? Not make any statements ?_
> 
> **To: Ni-baby**  
>  _< That's not an option. Remember after the wedding?_
> 
> **From: Ni-baby**  
>  _> Yeh , that was awful_  
>  _> So making a statement then ?_
> 
> **To: Ni-baby**  
>  _< Probably for the best. I'll talk to the co and ask what they think. You do the same with yours?_
> 
> **From: Ni-baby**  
>  _> Okay. Love you xxxxx_
> 
> **To: Ni-baby**  
>  _We love you, too x_  
> 

I sigh, shoving back the blankets. I’m not looking forward to another day in the studio, especially since I’ve had that damn tune stuck in my head but I can’t find the right words for it. Bryan is already waiting downstairs for me when I finally get dressed in my favourite yoga pants and tank-top and make my way to the kitchen, typing an email to my management as I go. He holds up his mug of coffee in greeting, and I wave without enthusiasm and stare at the cup in his hand. He frowns.

“Does your husband know you’re trying to con me into giving you caffeine?”

“He has no problem with it.” Bryan’s brow raises. “He doesn’t! As long as it’s, like, one sip every so often, he doesn’t care. And c’mon, Bry, I’m sick of peppermint tea.”

“Fine. But if I find out you’re lying to me…”

“Would I ever do that?”

I grin widely, making grabby hands for his mug, and he passes it over reluctantly. True to my word, I only take a sip, though it’s just a smidgen larger than usual, and pass it back. He finishes off his drink as I gather up my purse and knapsack with my notebooks.

He leads me out of the house, stopping long enough for me to lock the door behind us, and then to the car. I’ve just slid into the backseat when my phone makes a dinging noise in my hand; I tap the notification to bring up the new email from my management company.

> _Erin -  
>  I know we’ve known about the pregnancy for almost a month, but let us just wish you and Niall a heartfelt congratulations again on the baby. We know you and Niall will be amazing parents, and we’re so excited for you both!!_
> 
> _On to the point of this email: Yes, getting ahead of the media in terms of announcing the pregnancy before other publications do is the best idea.We’ll trust that you can make the appropriate statement - please do not make us regret this._
> 
> _Again, congratulations, and we wish you the best!_
> 
> _Regards,  
>  Lesly, Jamie, Martin, and Pete_

The fact that my team is putting their faith in my ability to make an announcement like this means a lot - it also means they really haven’t been paying attention to the fact that my tongue has gotten looser when it comes to speaking out. I give a mental shrug, sending back a quick acknowledgement that I’ve read their email, and glance up at Bryan.

His face is in its usual perpetual scowl, and it takes all my willpower to not giggle at it. He hates driving, especially in LA, but he refuses to let me drive myself anywhere. It doesn’t matter how much I beg; if he’s with me, I don’t get behind the wheel. It’s just gotten worse since I became pregnant.

Recording goes about as well as I hoped: We put the finishing touches on another two songs and get the base for a third done, and when we break for a late lunch, I’m annoyed to find that stupid beat still stuck in my head. Zach tosses an apple my way as I enter the kitchen area, and I thank him before taking a large bite out of it.

Owen grabs his drumsticks from my hand on his way out; I gasp in mock outrage, promptly choking on the fruit in my mouth. Lisa smacks at my shoulders as I cough, and eventually, I can breathe again. Nobody says anything for a long moment, just staring at me. I’m the first to break the silence with a snort before dissolving into giggles.

 **To: Ni-baby** _Fruit is evil, just thought you should know._

He doesn’t reply, but I don’t expect him to. Phone service is spotty when you’re gallivanting the world, and I feel guilty even sending random texts like this. I know we’re married and expecting a baby, but he deserves the time, the chance, to actually be a normal dude. Or as normal as he can get with being famous and fresh on a hiatus from one of the biggest boybands known worldwide.

Lisa asks about the song we’re working on, what we hope it sounds like, and I lose myself in that conversation. One thing I can talk about for hours is music, and if it’s my own? I won’t shut up.

The rest of the day passes quickly enough. By the time Bryan parks in the driveway, it’s almost seven at night, I’ve thrown up three times, and there are eleven unread texts in my inbox - two from Amber, one from Natalie, and eight from Niall. I wait until I’m changed into a fresh pair of pyjamas before reading and replying to any of them.

Nat’s is just checking in on me with an attached photo of the most adorable one-week-old baby I’ve ever seen in my entire life so far, and Amber’s is asking when she can come stay the night again, she needs a break from work and Brett. I send back a message asking if they’re still okay then switch to the thread with Niall.

It’s nothing but photos of wherever he is, him smiling widely in each image in front of various scenery. I snap a quick selfie of my eyes crossed, tongue sticking out, in front of the glass door that leads to the backyard; the shining of the pool lights behind my head gives the picture an ethereal kind of glow. Once that’s done and sent off, I make my way to the couch and lie down.

My phone rings not even ten minutes later, and I grin to myself, press the accept button, and rush to switch the camera around so that it’s pointed at my belly. Niall’s smile falters, and his brows furrow for just a split second, then he laughs quietly.

“Hi, Dad, here’s an update. I’ve decided to be a brat and make my mummy throw up way more than she should have, considering all I’d let her eat was an apple and a small packet of Ritz.”

“Well, that sounds like an awful time. You should be nicer to your mum. After all, she’s doing all the work to give you a place to grow.”

I wiggle my phone around, stifle my giggles as I say in a growling voice, “I wanna assert my dominance before I arrive, so that you two know just how much I’m gonna control your lives! Mwahaha.”

“I really don’t think our child is gonna sound like the spawn of Satan, love.”

“I know, but it was fun,” I reply flippantly and flip the camera view around so my face fills the square in the top. “Hi.”

“Hey. You look exhausted.”

“I am. It’s been a very long day.”

We chat about random things, and I listen with one ear while he tells me about the things he’s done today; my stomach growls, and I make my way to the kitchen to rummage through the fridge for something to snack on.

Every doctor I’ve spoken to has made a Big Deal about my weight, and Niall panics if I don’t have something healthy to eat before I go to bed. Or any time, really. I grab the container of grapes from the bottom shelf and the cup of water I’d placed in there before leaving for the studio.

He grins when he sees me eating but doesn’t stop speaking until he finishes up his story. I decide the break in conversation is a good time to bring up a very important issue.

“So we’re making a statement?” I ask as I pop another grape into my mouth; grimacing at the tartness, I turn my gaze back to the face on my phone’s screen. “We got the all clear from your management, too?”

Niall nods and scrubs his hand over his face. He looks absolutely worn down even through the lousy connection. “Yeah, they said it’s best that we control the narrative as much as we can.”

“Okay. Probably a good idea, I guess. I mean, that’s basically what Lesly said in her email to me, too.”

> **erroroperatorr:** _Well, guess the news is out! Yes, Niall and I are expecting our first child. Yes, we’re more excited than we can put into words. Yes, the baby absolutely is Niall’s. No, it’s NOT ANY of your business. So don’t ask. Thanks for respecting our privacy!_

The buzz of his phone is audible, and I watch him as he checks the notification, laughing when he rolls his eyes. He doesn’t speak while he types something, but I didn’t expect him to say much. He’s not even on the same continent as I am, so any chance of stopping me from tweeting something that ridiculous was nonexistent from the very start.

And now it’s too late - the tweet is out there, and deleting it won’t stop the screenshots from being posted. A notification appears at the top of my phone screen seconds later, and I tap on it.

> **Niall_Official:** _Though we would have preferred to share the news ourselves it is true that my lovely wife @erroroperatorr will be giving birth to our child later this year. We are both thrilled and ask you to respect our privacy as we start this new chapter of our lives_  
>  **Niall_Official:** _I also want to take a moment to be perfectly clear - I did not have a say in how @erroroperatorr stated the news but I do agree with the general sentiment !_

He smiles slightly, commenting in an offhanded manner, “I really don’t think that’s how our management companies wanted us to make a statement.”

“Eh, mine probably expected it.”

“Why don’t you get some sleep, love?”

“Because going to bed without you sucks.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” he murmurs and glances over his shoulder as someone’s voice sounds in the background. “I better go, though. I love you.”

“Love you, too, babe.”

I blow him a kiss before he disappears from the screen. Glancing down at my belly, I frown, running my palm over the slight swell. I shove two more grapes into my mouth even as I bring up the Twitter app again. It’s no surprise that my mentions are blowing up, and it’s even less of a shock that the replies to my post are an almost-even mix of delighted and angry.

The fact that people are responding this way _is_ unexpected, though. After news of our marriage got out, it had taken Niall and me making a video and posting it to our social medias for the fans to believe it - to this day, there is still a handful of users who refuse to accept it.

It certainly didn’t stir up this much controversy. And it definitely hadn’t caused me to get fifty tweets in a row full of vitriol and death threats; one person even attached a Google satellite image of our house with the caption _I know where u live_.

This time, the puddle of vomit on the floor isn’t caused by my pregnancy.


	12. Chapter 12

Bryan keeps his arm tucked around my shoulder, holding me close to his side, even as I sip gingerly at my tea. The sharp odour of bleach still lingers in the air, but having the windows open is helping clear it out. My stomach threatens to revolt; thankfully, the tea stays down, along with the dry toast I nibbled at an hour ago. I haven’t slept at all, and neither has Bryan.

After the tweet last night, how can I feel safe enough to sleep? Logically, I’d known that people would find out our address - public realty records are a thing and all - but for someone to go through the effort of attaching a Google image of our house to their vaguely-threatening tweet...

And it had gotten worse from there: Once that tweet was on the web, others had joined in, sending photos they’d taken from right outside the house, by my car while I was out and about, standing on the sidewalk in front of my parents’ house. My panic and fear had grown with each message that rolled in, and eventually, I’d thrown my phone across the room and paced.

Bryan found me around midnight, on my knees in front of the couch and scrubbing at the vomit though it was long clean by that point. I hadn’t been able to tell him what happened, words evaporating before they could reach my mouth and coming out as rattling sobs.

I didn’t need to, though; he’d already seen. He’d ushered me to the bathroom and forced me to take a bath, to relax as much as I could. By the time I’d gotten out, the living room was full of people I loved - my mom and dad, Amber and Brett, Alan, Harry...

I set my teacup down on the saucer, scrubbing a hand over my burning eyes. Harry is still asleep sprawled across the other end of the couch, and I pinch the tip of his toe that peeks out from under the blanket. He jerks awake with a grumble, and his scowl clears as soon as he sees me, replaced with a comforting smile as he pushes himself upright.

Bryan doesn’t let me go even when Harry plasters himself against my other side. A voice comes through the window from outside, and I flinch, my hands trembling and my throat growing tight. Bryan pushes me further into Harry’s waiting arms, crosses the room to the front door.

“Shh, it’s okay, love. I promise, nothing is gonna happen, we’ll make sure of it.”

“You can’t promise that, Haz.”

“I can, and I am.” His hold on me tightens, his lips pressing to my hair. “Look at Bryan. Okay? He’s a fucking wall. No one is gonna get through him. And Amber’s crazy enough that she’ll scare off anyone who comes too close. Alan and Brett would kill someone who tries to hurt you or that baby, and so would I. And don’t get me started on your parents. You’re safe, and you’re going to _stay_ safe because not one person in this house will let anything happen to you.”

I jump when the front door closes, and Harry runs a gentle hand over my hair as he hushes me again. Bryan enters the living room, giving me an apologetic smile. I watch him close the window before he sits beside me.

“Neighbours were arguing, that’s all.”

“What’d I tell you?” Harry asks softly, and I force a smile in response.

Footsteps on the stairs cause me to look around; my mother’s face comes into view, and I stand and hurry to her. She holds me tightly, her breathing unsteady, and I can’t hold back any longer. The tears slip free and slide down my cheeks, drop to her shoulder.

She murmurs quietly in my ear, but she doesn’t let go of me. This is the first time I’ve felt okay since the entire situation started last night. I know things won’t be so terrifying once Niall is home, he’s always made me feel safe and secure, no matter what going on. But his return is so far away.

She leads me to the kitchen and forces me to sit at the table. My hand instinctively drops to my belly, rubs circles into the swell. I force myself to focus on the mindless chatter between my mother and Harry, but the fear buzzes along under my skin, steals my breath whenever my mind lingers on it too long. Which is... a lot.

Porcelain scrapes against the tabletop, and I look down to see a mug of coffee in front of me. Raising a brow, I turn to my mom.

“One cup isn’t going to hurt, and though I’d prefer you actually _sleep_ , this is the best second option.”

I try to ask where the others are, but my words are interrupted by a low moan of bliss as I take a sip. It’s been too long since I’ve had more than a mouthful of coffee, and my tastebuds have certainly missed being scalded by the deliciousness. Bryan snorts and raises his mug in solidarity; I do a little dance in my seat before swallowing down another drink. Eventually, Amber enters the kitchen, followed by my father.

“Boys still asleep?”

Amber shakes her head, shuffling toward the stove so she can steal a slice of bacon from the platter. “Nah, Brett had to go to work, and Alan hitched a ride back with him.”

“I... I didn’t even see them leave.”

“You’ve been under a lot of stress, hun, so of course you didn’t.” She drops a kiss to my hair. “They didn’t want to startle you by suddenly appearing at your side, so Brett sent you a text.”

I glance toward the living room, wince when I remember that I threw my phone. Harry’s just retrieved it from the coffee-table when _Little Things_ starts playing. My eyes widen, and my heart pounds in my chest. I reluctantly press the button to accept the FaceTime call, holding my phone up so the angle isn’t weird.

Niall’s smile slips, and he furrows his brows. “How are you feeling today, love?”

“I, I’m okay. Just tired, ‘s’all.”

“Baby keep you up?”

“Something like that.” I know my laugh sounds fake - the way his frown grows is proof of that - but I push on, not wanting to risk telling him what’s going on. “How are _you_? How’s your day been?”

“It was gr - is that Harry?”

I close my eyes and nod. “Yeah, Mom wanted to spend the day with me, and I guess the promise of a home-cooked breakfast was too much for him to turn down.”

“Erin, can you go to another room, please?”

Amber and my mom exchange a glance even as I push myself to my feet and head toward the stairs. My father gives me a questioning look as I pass; I shake my head in response and keep going. Niall stays silent the entire time, but I can feel the worry in his gaze, though I don’t meet his eyes.

I make sure the door is closed tightly behind me and drop down onto the bed, finally looking at my husband for the first time in the last three minutes.

“Hi.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Why aren’t you telling me the truth?”

“I’m not lying, Niall. I’m _fine_.” I blow out a breath, rubbing at my forehead; when I look back at my phone, he’s scowling. “Look, I don’t want to fight, okay? I really don’t. So please trust me when I say I’m fine, there’s nothing wrong, and I miss you.”

Niall shrugs jerkily but lets it go. The tension between us is thick, a heavy weight on my heart, and he mutters out a quick goodbye before ending the call. Tears sting at my eyes when his face disappears from the screen. I can’t help but fear that things are going to be different now.

I roll onto my side, bury my face into the pillow that barely smells like him any more. I meant it when I said I didn’t want to argue with him. The decision to not tell him about the tweets is probably going to bite me in the ass, but him relaxing, having fun on vacation, is more important than the messages I’ve received or how I’m reacting to them.

They’re nothing new - I have always been subjected to hate mail and death threats, which have only occurred more once it became public knowledge that I’m in a relationship and now married to Niall - so why would it be a good idea to bring them up now? It’s _not_ a good idea, and I refuse to make him worry just because of something like this. With a sigh, I glance down at my belly.

“Please don’t be a handful like your dad.”

Slowly, the silence in the room becomes deafening, and I can no longer stand to be alone, so I make my way downstairs. The others are still in the kitchen; Amber’s mouth shuts with a clack of her teeth at the sight of me, and I force a smile. I don’t know who I’m trying to fool: They all know me too well to fall for it. She pats the seat next to her and wraps an arm around my shoulders once I sit.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Uh, can I ask a favour of you guys?” I ask quietly, and my mom cards her fingers through my hair.

“Of course, honey, what is it?”

“Can… can we not tell Niall about this?”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t wanna make him worry and cut his vacation short, and let’s be honest. The tweets are nothing new. There’s never been a time since the tour with One D that I haven’t gotten messages like that.”

“Yeah, but none of them have ever had pictures of your house attached! Of _our_ house attached!” my dad protests, holding up a hand when I open my mouth to retort. “No. Listen to me. Yes, you’ve been told to kill yourself millions of times by disgruntled fans, but Erin, you’re pregnant and married. You’re home alone all the time. Niall needs to know what’s going on. Let him make the decision of whether he comes home or not.”

I grit my teeth and draw in a breath that trembles with my irritation. “You know as well as I do that he’ll immediately come home if I tell him. And guess what? He’s _my_ husband, so it’s _my_ decision as to when and if he knows or not. Sure, he could decide to scroll through my mentions and find out that way, and fine. Whatever. But I’m not going to be the one who tells him. And neither are none of you.”

My father throws his hands into the air, grumbles something about my stubbornness being inherited from my mom, and she swats at his arm. Amber stares down at the glass of water in front of her. Bryan clears his throat.

“I’ll stay here until Niall gets back.”

“Bry -”

“Non-negotiable, so don’t try to argue. Gracie will understand. You know she adores you and would do anything to make sure you’re okay. She’d be the first to tell me to do whatever I can to keep you safe. And if it means I spend a bit of time away from home, then so be it.”

“Me, too,” pipes up Harry, shrugging when I turn betrayed eyes on to him. “We can make it a slumber party!”

“Guys, I don’t need you to move in with me. I’ll be fine.”

Amber sets her phone down on the table, and I glance over to see that she’s been texting Brett. “I’m staying, too.”

“Does nobody listen to me?”

Of course, I get a resounding _no_ from everyone gathered around the table, so I slump in my seat and accept the inevitable. My mom pushes a plate toward me, and I grimace at the sight of food. Between not feeling hungry because of the stress and the fact that the smell is literally nauseating me, I know I won’t be able to eat. Not right now, anyway.

The look she gives me, though, brooks no arguments, so I concede as gracefully as I can, nibbling at the crust on the toast. Conversations go on around me - mostly Bryan, Harry, and Amber discussing who will be sleeping where, Amber calling dibs on the bed I share with Niall, while my parents have their own quiet discussion off to the side. I can’t focus on much, though. My skin itches with the panic that courses through me, slightly faded now that I’m surrounded by my family and friends.

The day passes slowly. Niall doesn’t text or call again, and it proves to me just how messed up things are between us now. I catch myself wondering if what I’ve done is irredeemable, if there’s any chance that he’ll forgive me for lying to him. My mom and dad went back home after lunch, leaving me with an order to call them first if anything happens or if I need them to come back.

As soon as the door closes behind them, I make Amber, Harry, and Bryan promise to not contact them unless my life is actually in danger. Yes, my parents are only three hours away, but they can’t be coming to my side all the time. I’m twenty-two, married, and about to have a child. I should be able to handle this all without having to run to them for help.

“What sounds good for dinner?”

I glance up from the game I’m playing on my phone when no one answers Bryan’s question, and I realise they’re all staring at me. “Uh… why are you asking me?”

“Because you’re the one who’s become picky as fuck lately.”

“I’m not picky, the baby is!” I laugh, turning back to Bunny Pop. “I dunno, pizza’s fine, I guess. Wait, no. Wait, _yes_! Domino’s thin crust with alfredo sauce and salami. And bacon. And whatever pizza Haz and Am want. Oh! And those lava cake thingies. Don’t judge me!” I whine, and Bryan rolls his eyes affectionately but taps at the screen of his phone anyway.

I run a comb through my hair hours later, scowling when clumps of hair come out between my fingers. Amber lovingly pokes at the tip of my nose, does it again and again until I swat at her hand; a reluctant smile breaks free, and I follow her into the bedroom.

She’s already pulled the blankets back and tossed the extra pillows onto the chair by the window. My heart twinges at the sight - Niall and I usually keep them lined along the edges of the mattress, surrounding us like a fort. Even when we weren’t wrapped up in each other, it was comforting to have the warmth of him behind me and the wall of pillows in front of me.

She flops onto the side I normally sleep on, and I lie down much more gracefully onto my husband’s side. We both stay silent as we get settled in, but she interrupts the quiet with a sharp “ _No!_ ” when I load Twitter on my phone. I stare at her, eyes wide and jaw dropped, as she yanks the device from my hands. I can’t do a thing to stop her from deleting the app off my phone.

“Amber Lynn Clark, what the fuck!”

“You need to stay away from social media. Indefinitely.”

“Amber.”

“No, let me explain. Okay?” She waits until I nod then sets my phone aside and faces me fully. “Look, the shit-storm that happened because of the pregnancy announcement? Worst thing you’ve had to deal with. Worse than the break-up of the band, helluva lot worse than the marriage announcement. And you… you aren’t exactly the epitome of perfect mental health.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“I mean it nicely. You already have anxiety, and dealing with reading all the tweets and shit that’s coming your way is only going to make it worse. So from now on, I’ll be your social media manager. I’ll post if there’s something to post, delete any comments and replies that are only going to screw you up more, and once everything settles down, you can have control again.”

“Stop making sense,” I grumble, punching a pillow into shape. “You’ll tell me if there’s anything I need to know?”

“Absolutely. What, you don’t trust me any more?”

“Shut up, dumbass. I’m always gonna trust you. Hey, since you have my phone, can you text Nat to spam me pictures of her kiddo? I miss the little nugget already.”

“Done. Now get some sleep, babe. You’ve had a long day.”

Weirdly enough, I don’t struggle at all to slip from consciousness, even with the fears and worries that have hung heavy on my shoulders since last night. Amber’s solid presence next to me and the knowledge that Bryan and Harry are close by in case something happens is enough.


	13. Chapter 13

The next two weeks manage to somehow fly by. True to my friends’ word, I am never alone - either I’m at home, surrounded by Bryan, Amber, and Harry; or I’m in the studio with the band, finishing up the last handful of songs that still need to be recorded. I can’t even complain - it’s nice to not be by myself, even when their presence feels overbearing.

I lean back in the chair, biting at the edge of my fingernail, as we listen to the playback. Something about _Galaxies_ isn’t sitting right with me, and, judging by the expressions on my band mates’ faces, they feel the same. Zach asks for Dave to back it up and play again from the second verse, frowns at the soft piano that comes through. Slow, almost sugary sounding, it isn’t what the song needs.

“Why don’t we try again, speed it up just a bit?” he suggests, and I nod thoughtfully.

“Maybe a little more force on the keys, too. Make the notes pop out against the bass line.”

“That might work,” Owen says then tilts his head. “Zach, you should soften your voice just a tiny smidgen. Otherwise, it kinda drowns out Lisa and Dawn.”

“So you’re going again?”

I grin at the sound engineer, hopping to my feet. I instantly wince at the painful twinge that tears through my hips, and Lisa reaches out to steady me. I swat her hands away. She rolls her eyes with a sigh, even as I apologise for my rudeness.

“I’m okay, I’m okay. I keep forgetting I can’t move like I used to.”

“Take it easy, girl. Your husband will _kill_ us if something happens to you.”

“That’s because he’s an overprotective hen,” I grumble.

I rub a hand soothingly across my waist as I follow the rest of the band into the recording booth. One of the things I love about this studio is that they don’t care how we get the tracks laid down - they gave us the options of recording piece by piece or all together at once. Having the chance to do it as a band and not parts of a whole has made it easier, I think. It gives us the ability to make changes as we go, and it’s way more fun this way, especially since this is the last time we’ll make music together until after the baby is born.

Niall and I already decided during our many conversations while packing for the move that when the album is done being recorded, I’ll be taking a step back from the music scene for a while. A tour would be too much to juggle along with the pregnancy, and Niall’s a worrier.

I’m grateful for it, too: The hate and death threats that I have received since the announcement went out haven’t ceased, according to Amber’s expressions every time she checks my Twitter, and the stress of constantly being on the move and worrying about my safety would not be conducive to a healthy pregnancy. Besides, I can always go back _after_ I’ve healed up and had time to be a mother.

My mom still hasn’t seemed to come around fully in regards to the pregnancy even though it’s been over two months since I told her, but she _has_ been more supportive in general toward my marriage. At least, she isn’t making comments that Niall and I are too young to be married, anyway. She does offer some advice to make growing a baby easier, but beyond that, she doesn’t mention it. I’m only thankful that there isn’t any negativity with her any longer.

After an hour, _Galaxies_ is officially done, and we are all satisfied with the results. It’s exactly what we wanted when we set out to record it in the first place; I do a happy little jig as I put a line through the title on the dry-erase board then stare at the crossed-out names.

Seeing _Confessions_ listed feels weird. I'd always thought that was one song that would never be put on an album, considering I've only performed it live twice, once at Jem's insistence. If he'd never pushed me to do it, it most likely would never have seen the light of day. But it was an important part of my life, so I needed it to be on this record.

**[-_-_-_-]**

I pick lazily at the strings, humming to myself. A frown tugs at my lips when it doesn’t sound quite right. Grabbing my pen, I scratch out the line I’m working on, try to figure out a way of twisting the words to fit the rhythm.

I’m supposed to be in the booth within the next half-hour to finish laying down the vocals for _Monsters Between Us_ , but my mind won’t budge from the song in front of me. I don't look around at the sound of the door opening, but I can't ignore the familiar scent that filters through the air around me.

Niall’s laugh is like music to my ears as I embrace him excitedly, holding him close. Not having him by my side has been utterly awful, and I’m thankful that he’s finally back home. My dad had commented - again - just the other day about his displeasure that Niall’s left me on my own while pregnant so he could go see the world, but at least the judgemental remarks have lessened over the last few weeks; I’m pretty sure it’s in deference to my mental state since the Media Situation. I’m not going to question it, though.

Niall pulls back, leans down to press a kiss to the swell of my belly. “Hi, baby, you being nice to your mum today?”

“Sort of. They at least let me keep down some toast with my tea this morning, so… improvement!”

“Definite improvement. Keep it up, she needs to eat so you can grow. Got it?”

“Ni, I hate to break it to you, but a baby, unborn or otherwise, doesn't really give a damn about listening. To anyone.”

His shoulder rises in a nonchalant shrug. “I tried. What are you working on?”

“I… have no fucking idea.” I sigh and toss my notebook to the side, followed closely behind by my pen. “It doesn't seem to wanna work.”

“Want some help?”

“Maybe later. Gotta finish _Monsters_ first, or else Dave is going to lose his mind because we’ll fall behind.”

It takes three hours, but eventually, my bandmates have headed off for food and I'm sat on the stool next to Dave, nodding along to the song. It sounds better than I anticipated, and he seems pleased with the progress. I've just taken a sip from my bottle of water when I gasp, choke on my drink when it goes down my throat the wrong way. Niall looks up from his phone, concerned.

“Love?”

“I'm okay,” I wheeze as I press my hand gently to my stomach.

I found an OB-GYN shortly after we moved back to the States, and he said it wasn’t uncommon for some women to not feel the baby move before twenty-two weeks. I had just accepted that I was one of those women, since I was almost at that mark, but… there is no denying what that dull jab in my gut means.

I grin down at my belly, feel the kick again. Without looking away from where my hand rests, I wiggle my free hand at Niall, more insistently when he doesn’t come to my side immediately. He places his hand over mine, and I move it out of the way.

I bite my lip and wait; I can’t be sure that it’s going to happen again, but I really want Niall to experience it, too. So I’m willing to be patient and push off recording until it does.

“Oh, my god,” he whispers ten minutes later, and I grimace at the stretch as the baby moves. “Is that…?”

“Yep.”

Dave slips from the room to give us privacy, and I watch Niall’s face, his lips stretching into a wide smile as the baby gives another kick. His eyes crinkle up at the edges with the force of his grin, and the blue looks even more bright in his happiness.

I lean forward, press my lips to his temple, and he turns his head to capture my mouth with his. I sigh into the kiss, running my fingers through his hair; he pulls away far too quickly for my liking, and I pout but accept the inevitable.

“I love you,” he murmurs before glancing down at my belly. “And I love _you_.” When he faces me again, his lips are pulled down into a frown, and his blue eyes are dark with worry. “We need to talk.”

“Okay, about what?”

“Why you decided not to tell me you were getting death threats with photos of our house attached.”

My mouth moves, but no words come out. _How did he find out?_ My heart hammers under my ribs, and my palms go clammy. Eventually, I manage to speak. “I, uh, didn’t want you to worry. Who-?”

“Doesn’t matter how I found out.”

“Yes, it does. I told them all not to tell you.”

“Did you pass that message on to Nat? Or Lou? Or Liam?”

“Liam doesn’t even know about it, so I know it wasn’t him. Fuck, it was Natalie, wasn’t it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he repeats more firmly, his hands wrapping tightly around mine. “Love, don’t you ever keep that kind of thing from me. Ever. Your safety and well-being matter to me more than some damn trek around the world. What if something had happened? What if one of those people had decided to make good on their threats? I wouldn’t have known until it was too late. I can’t lose you, and I can’t lose our child, especially not because of your stubborn desire to not make me worry.”

“I’m sorry. I just… Niall, you’ve said so many times since we started dating that you hated that you couldn’t see the world on your terms. It was always ‘Well, we gotta be here by this time, now we gotta be there by this time, no time to see the sights!’ And I wanted you to have the chance to actually enjoy your time. I thought what I was doing was the right thing, because I wanted you to be happy.”

He tugs me into his side, presses a kiss to my hair. I rest my hand on his chest; his heart beats steadily under my palm, and I close my eyes at the sense of peace being so close to him brings me. He draws in a deep breath, not letting go of me even as he speaks.

“Love, I’m always going to be happiest if I know you’re safe. When I’m with you? When I see you smile? When I know all I have to do is reach out, and you’re right there? That’s when I’m happiest. The trip could have been an utter disaster, and I still wouldn’t have cared because I knew I have you to come home to. Please, talk to me next time, okay?”

“Okay. I promise.”

“Good.” He pauses. “Is this why you’ve not tweeted anything lately?”

“Yeah. Haz, Amber, and Nat told me to stay away from social media unless it was related to my music, so… since I haven’t had any developments to talk about, I just deleted Twitter off my phone. Amber can update it for me whenever I have something to announce.”

He nods slowly, and his mouth opens, but a knock on the door interrupts him before he can say anything. Lisa stands there with a slight apologetic smile on her face; she gestures toward the recording booth, and I sigh, dipping my chin in acknowledgement. We had all agreed this morning that we wouldn’t leave the studio until we finished the last two songs, and we’ve only gotten one done. Niall pulls me in for a kiss then releases my hands so I can do my job.

It’s late, almost ten at night by the time we all make our way out of the studio. My hands are still shaking, throat tight with emotion, and Niall understands, holds me close to his side as we walk to the car. It had taken over two hours to be able to get through the song without my voice trembling and breaking too much.

Dave finally managed to convince me, only after thirty minutes of arguing, that the raw quality of the vocals didn’t need to be changed, the song is perfect now and will definitely be a fan favourite. I still don’t believe him, but I couldn’t handle the thought of trying again and again.

I lean heavily against my husband once we’re in the car. Bryan glances at us in the rear-view mirror then pulls out of the space, pointing the wheels toward home.


	14. Chapter 14

The sound of the shower echoes through the room as it has for the last half-hour. Niall’s humming is occasionally louder than the water that hits the shower-floor, but for the most part, all I can hear is the noise of my husband cleaning himself up.

We hadn’t done anything last night after getting back to the house, both of us too worn out - him by the long flight home, me by the emotions that threatened to consume me after recording the final song of the night. We barely managed to get a quick goodnight kiss in before falling asleep wrapped up in each other for the first night in so long.

Rolling over in bed, I stretch to grab his phone off his nightstand. I scroll mindlessly through all the photos he took while on vacation but hadn’t sent to me for whatever reason; it doesn’t strike me as odd that I feel so free to go through his phone - we’ve both done it to each other multiple times over the years. Never because of distrust, but simply because we’re humans who have memories that fail occasionally, so sometimes something doesn’t get told, or curiosity.

Once I get to the photo we took the day before he left, I smile at the image then exit out of his gallery. A grimace pulls at my lips when I see that he has seventy-five unread text messages. I’ll never be able to understand how he can allow so many messages to accumulate without reading them; I can barely stand to leave one unread for longer than a minute, then the little red number starts annoying me.

I am completely unsurprised to see that he and Nat have texted during his trip, but the preview of his response confuses me. I frown and tap on the thread. My heart plummets when I see dozens of screenshots, all of them containing the replies I received to the pregnancy announcement.

It had almost slipped my mind that she’s the reason he even knows about the vitriol I endured. I exhale shakily, nausea climbing at the words, as I swipe through them then read the actual texts:

>   
>  **From: Natalie Reed**   
>  _> I hope you’re enjoying your vacay, Niall. Rest assured, we’re keeping a close eye on her. Bryan, Amber, and Harry have all but moved into your house while you’re gone. Don’t feel like you have to come home ASAP, she’d be devastated if you came home early. Just thought I’d give you a heads up about what’s going on._
> 
> **To: Natalie Reed**   
>  _< Why didn’t she tell me this was happening ???? Think another couple weeks would keep her happy ?_
> 
> **From: Natalie Reed**   
>  _> Up to you. Just know that if you come home within the next two days, she’ll figure it out and it won’t be pretty_
> 
> **To: Natalie Reed**   
>  _< I can’t believe she wouldn’t tell me . . ._

My fingers tighten around the edge of his phone, tears blur my vision, and it takes all of the willpower I possess to not throw the device across the room. I settle for tossing it roughly onto the nightstand, scooping up my own phone and opening the messages with Natalie.

> **To: Nat-boo**   
>  _< You had no right to do that, Natalie Eleanor Reed. Why the Hell would you send Niall screenshots of what was happening?? It was FINE. He didn’t need to know before he came home WHEN I WOULD HAVE TOLD HIM MY FUCKING SELF. Because guess what! It wasn’t a thing that needed to be made into a Thing. Everyone was making too much of a fucking big deal out of it. I was handling it just fine._

Her reply comes more quickly than I anticipated, but I’m too angry to be concerned that she’s coherent enough to text this early in the morning.

> **From: Nat-boo**   
>  _> Would you have told him? Really? Because you have a tendency of downplaying whatever you’re going through so no one else has to worry about you._   
>  _> I did what I knew you wouldn’t._   
>  _> I did what needed to be done._   
>  _> Yell at me and be mad at me all you want, Erin, but NOBODY gets to talk to you that way, and Niall needed to know._
> 
> **To: Nat-boo**   
>  _< Whatever._   
>  _< You overstepped your bounds by sending screenshots, Natalie._   
>  _< Give Lil Nugget a kiss from his fav aunt, but right now, I don’t think we should talk. _

I’m still shaking with anger by the time Niall emerges from the bathroom, a towel around his waist while he scrubs at his hair with another towel. He comes to a stop the second he sees my face, and his lips tug down into a frown. I brush away a tear that slips down my cheek, turn my head away so I don’t have to look at him. Unfortunately, I somehow managed to forget how persistent he is; he rounds the bed to sit next to me, his fingers coming up to catch my chin, and he gently forces me to meet his eye.

“Love, what happened? You were fine when I went in for my shower, but now you’re upset.” He sighs when I tug out of his grip, but he lets me scoot away to the other side of the mattress. “Talk to me, Erin.”

“You didn’t come home early to surprise me in the studio. You came home early because of Natalie. Like, I logically knew she’s the one who told you, but fucking Hell, I didn’t think she actually sent screenshots.”

I can almost hear the eye-roll I receive in response to my words, and his voice is tight, like he’s fighting back frustration, when he says, “Yes, she informed me about what was going on, but Erin, why is it so damn hard for you to understand that this is something I should have known immediately? From you! Not our friends, not our families, not anyone else but _you_.

“And you didn’t do that. I found out through Nat, which… Can I be honest and say I’m surprised that she’s the one who told me? Because I would’ve expected it to be Harry.”

“Not Louis?” I ask despite myself, and my lips quirk at his scoff.

“You two have been close since the tour we did together. He never would have told me.” His hand is warm as it wraps around my upper arm; I let myself be tugged back toward him, and Niall sighs, curling his body around mine. “You shouldn’t be angry with Natalie for telling me. I’m sorry that you are, though.”

“I didn’t want to make you worry.”

“I know. You don’t have to explain again, darling love of mine. Just… when you’re done being angry? I suggest actually talking to Nat, getting things cleared up between you two.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me that I fucked up.”

“Mm. So what should we do tomorrow?”

“Can we worry about Valentine’s Day later? I’m tired. Again. And hungry.”

“Then let’s get some breakfast and spend the day being lazy.”

“Why, Mister Horan, you have the best ideas.”

“Of course I do, Mrs Horan.”

Niall helps me to my feet, and I snake my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His smile disappears with the kiss; eventually, he pulls away, grins down at me. I poke his nose, murmuring an apology, but he shrugs it off. With a promise of going to cook something to eat, he shoos me off to the bathroom, and I watch him make his way to the closet to get dressed.

My shower doesn’t take nearly as long as his did - I’m in and out within ten minutes, and that’s even with shaving my legs as best I possibly can. The forecast calls for high temperatures and sunny skies, but I still grab one of his sweatshirts from the closet and a pair of plaid cotton sleep-pants. Niall agreed to be lazy today, and so I’m going to dress for comfort.

The wall is cold beneath my fingertips as they trail across the surface, my footsteps quiet under the sound of _Take It to the Limit_ playing from downstairs. Niall doesn’t turn from where he’s cooking, singing along to the Eagles as he does, but I know he senses my presence by the way his shoulders lose what little tension they have. I rest my head against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of him.

When he moves the pot off the hot burner, I step away to the cupboard with the bowls. I’m not a huge fan of oatmeal, but it’s filling enough that I’ll probably only want two snacks between now and lunch, rather than the three or four I usually have. I quickly slice up some strawberries and a banana while he ladles the oatmeal into the bowls, carrying them to the table. The kiss he presses to my cheek is gentle, reassuring me that whatever problems we had in regards to my decision to withhold the backlash I got, they’re gone now.

His hand rests on my belly for a moment; his thumb rubs soothing circles into my skin, and I smile to myself as I dump the fruit into the small bowl next to me. He guides me to the table, pulls out a chair for me.

“Would you still have come home early if Nat hadn’t ratted me out?” I ask after we’ve eaten in silence for a few minutes.

Niall pauses, spoon hovering in front of his mouth. He sets it back down and sighs. “No matter what, I would have been back by our anniversary.”

“But the texts made you come back two months before that.”

“Yeah, they did. Can I ask you something?”

“Absolutely.”

“Would you have told me yourself? After I came home, I mean.”

“Of course I would have.” I frown, push my spoon through the oatmeal. My appetite has vanished. “I mean, I think I would’ve. Probably would have downplayed it, though,” I admit sheepishly.

“Yes, you’re quite good at that.”

“I, uh, I’m gonna call Doctor Kimball today.” When Niall’s brows raise, I shrug and push away my breakfast. His hand wraps around mine, and I lean into his side. “I shouldn’t be this angry with Natalie for telling you what I was too afraid to. I shouldn’t be so willing to cut off contact with her when she was just doing the right thing because I was so adamant about doing the wrong thing.”

“Love, you did what you thought was right, no matter how misguided it was. I’m upset that I didn’t hear it from you, but… your reasoning, as ridiculously inaccurate as it was, was sound. Selfless. But please be selfish next time. Tell me, drag my ass back home from wherever I am in the world. Don’t try to deal with this all on your own, okay?”

“Well, hopefully, there isn’t a next time, but I promise.”


	15. Chapter 15

“How about this?”

I stop strumming as Niall reaches for the guitar, settling it on his knee. His fingers pick at the strings in a more upbeat yet rocking tune, reminiscent of something Melissa Etheridge would play, and I find myself bobbing my head along to the beat.

Pulling my notebook closer, I mark down the new chords and rhythm before singing the line I’ve had stuck in my head for days. His voice joins in with another line; I scribble down the words as he continues. Amber moves around us, but I keep my focus on the task at hand.

I’d been surprised to see her standing on our front step this morning, and all she’d done in response to my unasked question was hold up the video-camera. I rolled my eyes but let her come along anyway.

She’s always loved documenting our life on the road and in the studio - even when Complete Irrationality was little more than a locally-known band, she wanted to get as many pictures and videos as possible. It had been awkward at first, but now it’s second nature to just let her do what she’s going to do.

“Life without you means nothin’, but girl, this sure is somethin’,” Niall croons quietly.

I hum along to the guitar, my brain racing and twisting words around in a desperate search for the right combination. “Tell me this is real, the way you make me feel… Fuck,” I mutter when I lose the thread of what I was singing, and Niall laughs though he doesn’t stop playing; his nose crinkles up, and I can’t stop my own laughter when he starts swaying on the stool, his foot tapping against the floor to the beat.

“I really love to fuck you, but we’re in the studio now, so let’s go to the house, so I can show you what I can do.”

“What the Hell?” Giggles escape, and I throw my pencil in his direction. He ducks it easily even as the strings squeal when his fingernails scrape across them. “Niall James!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be serious now.”

He resumes strumming, and I watch his fingers picking at the strings. It’s been a long morning already, both of us having woken before the sun even peeked over the horizon; it felt right to wake up in his arms, and the uneasiness that I’ve been struggling with since he first left is now gone. Having him so close, being able to look over and see his face… it is most definitely the best thing in my life right now. I plan on cherishing what I have with him until I die.

“Everything you are brought us this far,” I sing quietly, write the words down; Niall’s fallen silent, though he doesn’t stop playing, and I’m lost enough in my thoughts that the words are coming easier now. “My love for you is… is a promise on the stars.”

I glance up when Niall’s voice sounds, his eyes on me and captivating me with their clarity and seriousness. “I didn’t know the truth when you came into my life. Now that I’ve found you, there won’t be another lonely night.”

His fingers slow on the strings. He sets the guitar aside after a moment, and the room is quiet save for our breathing and Amber’s footsteps as she moves around. I almost forgot she was still in here. My attention is dragged away by my husband reaching for my hand.

I let him tug me over to the couch, settling into his side the instant I’m sat next to him. This feels like home, the one place in this world I will always belong. Closing my eyes, I rest my head on his shoulder and listen to his humming, his hand on my belly as our baby kicks enthusiastically. _Yep, this is perfect_.

**_____________________**

A knock sounds on the door, and I adjust the front of my dress before crossing the room to answer it. Niall stands on the other side, dressed in a white button-up and black slacks; his hair is perfectly done, and there’s the slightest hint of stubble on his jaw - _he’s shaved_ , I think even as I lean up to press my lips to his. He brushes a curl from my face, pulls me in for a deeper kiss. My breathing is ragged when we finally part. He holds his hand out to me.

“You are so lovely.”

My lips quirk up into a smile, my cheeks burning at the compliment, and I let him lead me down the hallway. “Thank you. You look amazing, yourself.”

A gasp bursts out of me when I see the way our dining room has been transformed: A long white cloth is draped over the table, and three candles flicker merrily in the semi-darkness. Two of the chairs have been pulled to the side of the room; he helps me sit in one of the remaining chairs, kisses my temple, and rounds the table to sit across from me.

I look down at our plates and smile at the meal - everything is something I’ve mentioned loving to eat. I sniff back the tears that come to my eyes and reach for my fork. We don’t speak as we start eating. I stop mid-chew at the realisation that he’s learnt how to make spaghetti squash instead of using pasta. I meet his gaze. His eyes look almost white in the candlelight, and warmth consumes me as I stare at him. He squirms in his chair, shrugs with a small smile.

“I, I know you like spaghetti, but I figured it would be healthier this way.”

“I love it. I haven’t had spaghetti squash since I was, like, fifteen.” I clear my throat, take a sip from my wineglass. The sparkling cider’s bubbles tickle my nose as I swallow. “I… gods, Niall, this is so amazing.”

“We haven’t had a date in a while, and, well, I know it’s my fault -”

“No, babe, it’s not.”

“I’m the one who was backpacking across the world instead of being here with you.”

“Niall -”

He inhales sharply. “No. We’re not doing this. I want tonight to be as wonderful as possible, and that doesn’t include arguing over whose fault it is about our lack of dates.” Niall nods to himself and grabs for my hand, lacing our fingers together. “Anyway, as I was saying. We haven't had a date in a while, and I just… I wanted to spend the evening with just you and me - no friends, no family, no paparazzi, just us. And we can't exactly have that if we go out. So I thought, why not do it here at home?”

“It's perfect. When you told me to wear something nice, I-I didn't think you'd pulled out all the stops for a romantic night in.”

“You deserve it.”

Once we’re finally done eating, which takes longer than usual because of the fact that the baby is very active and Niall keeps rounding the table to hold his hand to my belly every time it happens, he swats my hands gently before I can pick up the dishes. I frown, confused - he’s never been one to leave dirty dishes on the table. He’s only done it once during our entire relationship, the morning he left for his vacation.

My thoughts get derailed by the tender kiss he presses to my lips, and I blindly follow him into the living room. His arms come up to wrap around my waist; I rest my forehead on his shoulder and sway with him to the soft music that starts playing. It isn’t much, not in comparison to other dates we’ve gone on, but this is by far the most perfect. The privacy, the forethought that’s gone into his planning… it’s all wonderful. I sigh happily, close my eyes against the dim lighting of the room.

“Give to me your leather, take from me my lace,” I sing along quietly with Stevie, and Niall’s lips press to my hair.

“You in the moonlight, with your sleepy eyes. Could you ever love a man like me? And you were right. When I walked into your house, I knew I’d never want to leave.”

My heart aches with how much he means to me. His support and love have become everything. If I’d been asked almost three years ago if this was where I saw my life - married to the man I could barely tolerate when we were on the outs, pregnant with our baby, and being a solo artist - I would have laughed myself senseless and suggested the person lay off the drugs. Remembering all that we went through feels a lot like watching a movie. I know it’s in our past, and without it, we probably would never have made it this far; but the memories have a softer edge, blurry with time and emotion.

I lean back, gaze up at Niall. “I love you. And for what it’s worth, I’m so glad you chose me to live your life with.”

His fingers stroke across my cheek with a feather-soft touch, and I shiver as goosebumps race up my flesh. He kisses me gently, whispering against my lips, “It means everything.”

I let him take me by the hand, lead me up the stairs and down the hallway. I lean against the wall as he reaches over and twists the tap on the tub. While the bathtub fills, Niall turns to me, helping me loosen the sash to my dress, and and I stand still as he pushes the sleeves from my shoulders. The fabric pools on the floor at my feet; his hands are roughened with calluses but so gentle, trailing worship along my skin. I arch into his touch, the searing kiss he presses to my lips, then step into the tub with his hand wrapped securely around mine.

His body is solid behind my back, and I let my head drop until it rests on his shoulder. The baby flips and kicks, but I pay very little mind to it, instead focusing on the looseness in my muscles and how Niall’s breathing fills my ear. I do place his palms against my belly so he can feel, though. He doesn’t get to experience this all the time like I do, no matter how badly I wish he could. And I know it’s just going to get worse once he goes back into the studio.

“Stop thinking so much, love,” he murmurs into my hair, and I let out a heavy breath. “Just enjoy where we are right now, and we’ll figure out the rest as we go. Together.”

“How do you always know what I’m thinking?”

“Because I know you better than I know myself.”

“I love you.”

“And I’ll always love you, no matter what. D’you remember what I told you that night, when you met us in Ohio a couple weeks after you told me you were pregnant?” When I shake my head, he sighs and tightens his hold on me. “I told you I’d remind you every single day of all the reasons I love you, that I’ve been in love with you since we met. That loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. This is me reminding you that you’re the greatest thing I have ever been lucky enough to have in my life.”

The tears come quickly, and I give a shaky nod. I can’t speak - my throat is too tight, and what can I possibly say in response to that, anyway? So instead of saying anything, I force myself to relax, to focus on the warmth of him behind me and the proof of life in my belly. The life we created almost six months ago.

**[.:.:.:.]**

Amber’s hair is an utter mess when I pull open the front door the next morning, and I have the oddest feeling that my best friend has begun trying to channel her inner Albert Einstein. The grin on her face gives me pause; it never bodes well for me when she looks that excited about anything. The sense of foreboding strengthens when she grabs a laptop off the coffee-table. I don’t get the chance to tell her that that one belongs to Niall before she realises it herself, setting it aside with a soft curse and reaching for mine.

I make my way to the kitchen and grab my mug of tea. By the time I come back to the living room, the video camera is on the table, plugged into my computer, and she waves for me to sit next to her. I wince when she yells for Niall, and she apologises but it doesn’t stop her from calling his name again.

“Okay, so, thanks for finally getting your Irish ass down here,” Amber says once Niall joins us. “Anyway, you remember how I was recording you while you were in the studio writing the song together?”

“Uh, yeah. It was just yesterday. Lambchop, what is this?”

Instead of replying, she taps the space bar on the keyboard, and I frown though I do pay attention to the video that begins to play. It’s black-and-white footage, and we watch in rapt silence as Niall listens intently to me singing, as he grabs the guitar from me, as we laugh and sing together and enjoy the time we spent with each other. Tears sting at my eyes when the video comes to an end. It’s rough and full of disjointed snippets of conversation, considering the editing Amber did to it, but I’m in awe of it anyway.

“Do you like it?”

I gape at the screen then turn wide eyes on my best friend. “Holy shit, Amber, it’s… it’s amazing. Did you stay up all night to do this? What made you do it? Oh, my gods!”

“It’s not that good,” she counters, but Niall shakes his head, placing his hand over her mouth.

“It’s wonderful. Ew, don’t lick me!”

Amber cackles as he removes his hand, wiping his palm against the sleeve of her T-shirt. I roll my eyes but stay out of their weirdness. It’s always best if I keep myself distanced when they get like this. Amber sobers within a few seconds, and my heart hurts with the hesitant hopeful expression on her face.

“Really? Then, good. Because I have some more ideas. I have the original recording already, so I figured you two could, like, maybe record the song today, and then Dave and I could overlay the track to the video, and I can splice in clips from you guys recording the vocals?”

“Amber, I fucking love you. If I wasn’t married to Niall, I’d totally kiss you right now.”

Niall shrugs, nudges me with his shoulder; the way his eyes glint mischievously warns me that I’m not going to like what he’s about to say. “Go ahead, kiss her. I mean, you kissed _my_ best friend, so why not kiss _your_ best friend.”

“You ass!” I protest even as he dissolves into gleeful, impish laughter.


	16. Chapter 16

> **To: Nat-boo**  
>  _< I miiiiiight have overreacted. You were only looking out for me because you’re such an amazing bestie, and I feel awful for going off on you like I did._
> 
> _< I said you had no right to tell Niall what was going on, but that’s a fucking lie, and I know it. You had every right because he deserved to know and make his own choices as to whether he came home or not. _
> 
> _< If anyone didn’t have the right, it’s me not having the right to freak like that and to treat you so unkindly. I’m so so so so so so so so sorry, Natty, and I really wish I could go back in time to stop myself from being such a dumbass and lashing out at you. I love you so very much. I hope you can forgive me. _

I sigh, set my phone aside, and pick up my fork, stabbing at the salad in front of me. It’s been almost a week since I went off on Natalie via text, and I am well aware that I should have apologised far sooner. Unfortunately, I’m nearly as stubborn as my husband is, so my foolish pride was in my way. Now all I can do is hope that everything between Nat and myself can be fixed.

Natalie had become an even more important part of my life in the weeks following Jem’s death; she’s been there for me through everything, always a text or Skype call away whenever I was struggling with missing Jem, and she has spent so much time reassuring me that Niall would never have married me if he didn’t truly love me.

No matter how exasperated she was with my self-doubts and lack of confidence, she never once betrayed me or made me feel like an imposition in her life. Even after Silent Playground disbanded - Hell, even after the impromptu Vegas wedding blew up in her and Lou’s faces - she was still willing to help me with my own baggage.

For me to react that way was uncalled for and - quite frankly - ridiculous. I honestly won’t blame her if she never forgives me. My mind starts racing the longer I sit there thinking about the text conversation, each worst-case scenario worse than the last, and breathing becomes almost impossible.

I jump when a warm hand lands on my shoulder, but Niall doesn’t let me twist away; he wraps his arms around me and holds me tightly to his chest. His heartbeat is steady under my ear, and I instinctively try to match my inhales and exhales with his. It works after a long few minutes.

“Love?”

“I’m fine,” I rasp out, though I know he doesn’t believe me. I don’t even believe myself. “Babe, I promise, I’m okay. I will be, anyway.”

“What happened?”

I pull out of his grip, push out the chair next to me with my foot; he sits down without question and reaches for my hand. “I, I texted Nat to apologise. She hasn’t responded. And I...”

“You keep beating yourself up over reacting the way you did.”

It isn’t a question, and it doesn’t need to be. Niall knows me so well, so him figuring out exactly what I’m feeling and thinking is not a surprise of any kind. He sighs, rubbing his thumb along my knuckles. We sit there in silence for a while, and the comfort he provides helps ease the rest of my anxiety. Shoving my salad away, I sigh heavily and look at him.

“She hasn’t responded yet. Like, I understand if she doesn’t want to ever talk to me again, I really will understand, but I just… I don’t want to lose her, y’know? What am I supposed to do if our friendship is over?”

Niall scoffs before I’ve even finished speaking. “Darling, Natalie is not going to end the friendship just because you got upset with her and said things you didn’t mean. If that was the type of person she is, she would never have reached out after you told her she was being a nosey, manipulative bitch who needed to get her own life.”

I wince at the reminder of that particular fight: It happened shortly after Niall and I got married, and it was because she’d been concerned about my mental health with not having my support system once I started touring again. I had the band, sure, but not my family, my friends, and my husband. She tried to convince me to at least Skype with Doctor Kimball or my parents, to tell them what I was feeling, and I’d blown up on her then, too.

A tightness sinks into my chest at the realisation that I lash out a lot. I like to think I’ve gotten better about it, but I can’t be sure. I make a mental note to talk to Kimball about it during my next session.

“How’s the baby today?” Niall asks suddenly, and I jolt back to attention, grateful for the distraction from my own thoughts.

“Being an asshole already,” I whine. “Fucking acid reflux and I’m so tired, and I want to take a bath but I don’t want to risk falling asleep and drowning, except I’m already so enormous that I don’t really think _that_ ’s much of a risk any more, and I’m miserable.”

“You aren’t enormous, Erin, and even if you were, you would have good reason. You’re literally growing a tiny human.”

“And can I tell you how shitty it feels to not be able to eat the biggest, greasiest burger I can find right now, with extra bacon and cheese, because again, acid reflux?”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Yeah, take over being the living incubator so I can eat all the things this baby isn’t allowing me to eat,” I grumble before sighing and leaning heavily into his side. “I’m whining a lot, aren’t I?”

“It’s okay, darling. You’re going through a lot right now.”

My words are interrupted by the buzzing of my phone, and Niall glances at the screen. The way his lips twist up into that sweet smile of his that I love means good things for me; he passes the phone over, and I draw in a steadying breath before checking the notification.

> **From: Nat-boo**  
>  **>** _Of course I forgive you, you fucking idiot. I was just giving you the space you requested._  
>  **>** _Now come see Lil Nugget and me because we miss you!_
> 
> **To: Nat-boo**  
>  **<** _When would be good for you? Because I don’t have anything pressing to do since the album is basically done, and I miss the hell out of Nugget’s face._  
>  **<** _And yours_  
>  **<** _But mostly Nugget’s_
> 
> **From: Nat-boo**  
>  _Whenever you want. We’re not doing anything today. I’m too tired._

“Wanna go with me to Nat’s?”

“When?”

“Today. Now. Like, out the door in the next three seconds.”

“I can’t even get dressed?” he asks on a laugh, and I shake my head, pushing to my feet and crossing the kitchen to scrape the rest of my salad into the compost bin on the patio. “I’m not going over there like this.”

“Babe, she’s seen you in less.”

He gestures toward his outfit, otherwise known as his worn and somewhat-threadbare sweats. “When has she seen me in less clothing than this?”

“You know Nat and I share everything.” I laugh when he nearly screeches my name, sounding scandalised. “I’m kidding! But she has accidentally seen a few of the pictures you sent that were less than safe for work.”

His cheeks instantly turn bright red, and he covers his face with his hands. I shrug; he should have known it was a possibility, considering how little boundaries my friends and I keep.

It is both a blessing and a curse that I remain so close to Natalie and Amber: They know me better than anyone, except maybe Niall, so they know when to push and when to back off. There are also no secrets between us, though even I have to admit that I would prefer Nat never having seen my husband in all his naked glory.

_Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that she’s gotten an eyeful of what he looks like in the nude_ , I think as I lower myself onto Ugly Couch. Natalie finishes changing Levi’s diaper then passes him off to me, and I make sure he’s tucked securely in my arms before glancing at Niall. His cheeks still haven’t lost their red tint, and he can’t seem to make eye contact with our friend. Nat frowns, catches my gaze. I stifle a giggle.

“He knows you’ve seen him all nekkid.”

She nods in understanding, but I recognise that look in her eye. “Don’t worry, Nialler, you aren’t the only One D boy I’ve seen naked. Zayn holds that honour.“

“When did you see Hazza naked? I can understand seeing Lou naked, unless y’all did the nasty in a dark closet, and Liam is obvious, considering he likes stripping wherever he is. But _Harry_?”

“I asked, duh.”

“Natalie!” My giggles let loose, and poor Niall looks confused and even more traumatised by the conversation. “What, collecting those mental snapshots like Pokémon cards?”

“Damn right.”

I shake my head and adjust my hold on Levi as he squirms, disgruntled by the noise of our laughter. Niall finally speaks, asks how she’s doing with everything that’s going on, and I listen with half an ear to her reply.

I want to ask if she has talked to Delia lately, but I don’t want to potentially dredge up painful memories. I know that things went ass over teakettle when Silent Playground broke up, and though Natalie wouldn’t ever actually admit it, I can only imagine how badly she was hurt by everything.

Unfortunately for me, my curiosity proves to be stubborn, and I find myself asking how the others reacted to the news of her pregnancy. It’s something I probably should have asked ages ago, but hurting her in any capacity has never been high up on my list of “likes”. Her lips curve into a brilliant smile, fuller and more real than I can remember seeing on her face in a long time. She shrugs and pulls her knees to her chest.

“Gare was thrilled. Like, even more than I was. You would have thought it was his own kid.” Not surprising, considering it’s Garrett. I nod slowly, but she doesn’t see, her eyes holding a faraway vacancy. “Chase and Delia found out at Thanksgiving because my mom invited them to dinner because she didn’t know they didn’t know. They were thrilled, and Deeds and I kinda sorted out our shit.”

“I’m so glad you two talked.”

“Have _you_ talked to her recently?”

I freeze, mind racing to bring up all the conversations I have had with my friends in the last two years. “No, holy shit, I haven’t. Not much, nothing beyond the occasional text to check in and make sure she’s still breathing. I guess I was too concerned for you. Fuck, I’m an awful friend.”

“Maybe you should call her later then?”

“Yeah, I will. Damn, she’s gonna hate me.”

The visit with Natalie doesn’t last too long - I have a few interviews over the next couple of days that I have to prepare for, and I’m always so easily tired these days. My arms ache with emptiness after I hand Levi back to his mom. I remind myself that it won’t be much longer and I’ll have my own child to cuddle and never let go of.

Niall leads me out to the car, holds the door open until I slide into the passenger seat. As much as I like driving myself around, I know better by now than to argue. He’d taken Bryan’s side when I complained the first time about never being allowed behind the wheel, so I am well aware that Niall won’t be an ally in this particular argument.

He reaches across the console to lace our fingers together, and I settle back in my seat to enjoy the peacefulness between us. Guilt still exists in the back of my mind, but being with Niall always brings with it the safety and comfort of knowing I’ll never be alone again. I squeeze his hand, closing my eyes, and let the sound of him singing along to the radio surround me and melt deep into my soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just for reference, this is ugly couch:  
> 


	17. Chapter 17

“Babe, are you sure you don’t wanna go with me?” I call out, though the toothbrush in my mouth muffles my words.

Niall huffs out a laugh, ambling into the bathroom. His arms wrap around me, and I cock my head to the side so he can bury his face against my neck. He clings to me as I finish brushing my teeth, only stepping back when I start to pull my hair into a low ponytail. As soon as I’m done, I turn on my heel to face him.

“You didn’t answer, Mister Horan.”

“I’m quite okay with staying here, petal, but if you really want me there…”

I shrug and step out of his hold, twisting up my face as I debate. “Eh, it’s up to you. I think I can do a few interviews without you, as long as I know you’re just as miserable away from me as I’ll be while gone. And that you’ll still be here when I get back.”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

He chuckles softly and follows me out of the bathroom. I ignore my overprotective shadow as I grab my phone off the nightstand then head downstairs. My socked feet skid on the hardwood when I come to an abrupt stop at the base of the staircase, staring at the two men who sit on the couch; only Niall’s quick reflexes prevent me from falling on my ass. The shock fades away, and I rush across the room to throw my arms around Rick’s shoulders.

“Oh, my gods, it’s Ricky Ricardo!” I squeal when he squeezes me gently. “What are you doing here?”

“Bryan figured you needed more supervision than he could provide, so he asked me. I agreed, by the way. You’re second only to Natalie in how much trouble manages to find you.”

“I am innocent and appalled that you would think otherwise.”

“Wha - Erin, you okay?”

I wave a hand in the air and try to stifle the sobs that have suddenly burst out of me. It’s so stupid to be crying about seeing someone who’s kept my friends safe for years, but here I am. Thankfully, Niall keeps any comments to himself, just pulls me into his chest so I can get myself back under control.

“I’m okay, I’m okay. Fuck, I hate being emotional.”

“I know, love. Call me when you’re at the hotel, okay?”

“First person I call.”

Bryan grabs my suitcase where it sits by the front door, and Niall and I trail after the security guys to the car. The first interview is only a two-hour drive from here, but after that, I’m off to New York then Tennessee, Florida, and Texas. Thankfully, the last three are for radio shows; I don’t have to worry about hiding my expressions for radio.

Before I can slip into the backseat with Rick, Niall tugs me to a stop, pushes something into my hand. I blink owlishly at the fabric-wrapped package then peel back an edge. The familiar label meets my gaze, and I pin my husband with a flat look.

“Only because I know this works,” I mutter, passing the tea bags off to Rick. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“I already miss you. Is this how you felt when I went on vacation?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

He pulls me in for one last tight embrace. “This sucks. Come back home to me.”

“I always will.”

Niall releases me slowly, and it physically hurts to turn away from him. I slide into the backseat next to Rick, reluctantly pulling the door closed behind me. Forcing a smile, I wave at Niall as Bryan pulls out onto the road. I blink once, then my husband slips from view.

“You gonna be okay?” Rick asks quietly after I settle back into the seat.

I shrug and pull the sleeves of my hoodie over my hands, fidgeting with a loose thread. “I think so. Like, I know this is something I have to do, but… I’d rather just stay home, do the interviews via Skype or something.”

“I heard about what happened after you announced the pregnancy.” He reaches out to squeeze my shoulder comfortingly. “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure no one gets too close to you.”

“Thanks.”

“Erin McCarty-Horan, you better get your damn seatbelt buckled this instant!”

I jump in surprise at the sharp tone of Bryan’s voice, but I do as he orders. The emptiness inside of me at having to leave Niall distracted me from obeying the laws of the roads; apologising demurely, I let my head rest against the window and close my eyes against the scenery blurring past.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, snake a tickling path down my cheeks, and I sniffle but don’t bother drying my face. No point when more tears are just going to come.

My phone feels heavy in my hands as I stare down at the dark screen. I’d texted Niall that we made it to San Diego, but he hasn’t replied yet. A small part of me says it should be expected, I’ve been up his ass since he came back home so of course he wants a break from me. It’s small but very vocal. I’m afraid I might start believing it soon.

“Hey, honey, we’re ready.”

I swallow thickly and nod, passing my phone off to Bryan before I follow the assistant. Her bright smile feels mocking. Of course she’s in a great mood; her husband probably isn’t sick of her.

I clench my hands into fists, nails biting sharply into my palms. The pain acts as an anchor, keeps me from falling too far into the downward spiral. It does nothing to quell the tears. Everything goes blurry around me.

“Tell Jon we’ll be right there,” she murmurs to someone, then her hand is gentle on my shoulder. I follow her blindly off to the side. “Lemme guess, those pesky hormones?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I manage to squeak out.

My words are betrayed by the fact I break down, start sobbing uncontrollably. There is no hesitation, no reluctance, when she pulls me in for a tight hug. Her floral perfume is sweet but not overwhelming, the fabric of her T-shirt soft against my cheek. I soak up the warmth and comfort that she provides me disregarding the fact that I’m a stranger. She pulls back after a long few minutes and produces a tissue as if by magic.

“Better?”

I nod shakily, blotting at my cheeks and my nose. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. You just… you looked like you needed a hug. Some comfort. Are you ready to go in now?”

With a steadying breath, I dip my chin and smooth out the front of my hoodie. The woman’s scrutinising gaze skims over my face, but she turns without a word, continues leading me to the room where the interview is taking place.

“Oh, my god, you’re _glowing_!” Alyson hugs me as soon as I’m close. “Darius, isn’t she glowing?”

Darius grunts in acknowledgement, but I don’t take it personally - he hasn’t finished the cup of coffee in his hands, so I know his higher functions are a bit delayed at the moment. Bryan stays by my side once I’ve sat, his arms crossed over his chest while people bustle around to do my makeup, fix my hair, and make sure I have a drink. Thankfully, it’s coffee.

“Okay, ready?”

I nod, sip at the coffee. “I think so.”

The questions start off easy enough to answer: Alyson asks about the tracks and how excited I am to release the album. I give as truthful of answers as I can - I’m utterly thrilled to finally have my music out there for the fans.

It feels like it has been years since I dropped new music, but the wait is nearly over. Darius picks up on the hints about there being some covers on the record, and it takes all of my willpower to not blurt them out. I just wink in his direction and tell him he’ll have to wait like the rest of us.

“So you’re obviously pregnant. How far along, exactly?”

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes; Bryan grimaces from beside the cameraman, knowing full well how little I desire questions about anything other than my music. Drawing in a steadying breath, I focus back on Alyson.

“I’m about six months.”

“Wow! Over halfway through. Was it hard, keeping the pregnancy from everyone?”

“I mean, I didn’t keep it a secret from the people who had the right to know, such as my husband and our families and friends. They knew almost immediately. And honestly, I would have preferred to not have to make a statement regarding the pregnancy until it was on our terms, but the paps don’t stop, yeah?”

“How do you think Jem would have reacted to the news?”

The air rushes from the room instantly. My breath catches in my throat, heat flooding my face. This isn’t fair. Instinctively, I search for Bryan and Rick, seeking out the comfort of just knowing they are nearby, but it makes no difference. The wound has been torn open again.

Because I will never know how Jem would have reacted. If he would be happy or upset, doting or overbearing. I will never know how his smile would light up his face upon seeing my child for the first time, and my child will never know the unconditional love that Jem was always so prone to showing everyone, no matter who they were. We’ll never know because he was taken from us far too soon.

I flinch away from the strong fingers that cup my chin, but Bryan forces me to look at him. The thin slash of his mouth would scare me if I could feel anything. Numbness has blossomed, diffused throughout my entire being; I’m both here and not, existing in a vacuum and spread across the atoms of the universe. Between one breath and the next, I become nothing.

“Are you okay? Petal? _Erin_.”

I snap to reality at the sharpness in Niall’s voice coming through the speaker, and a gasp breaks loose as I finally manage to draw in a breath that doesn’t suffocate me. Rick murmurs something, but I can’t hear it over the roaring in my ears. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, tugging me into his side, and tears pour down as my sobs grow harder.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to need to hear some words please,” Niall implores of me, and the anguish in his voice causes my very soul to ache. “Please, just - just tell me you’re okay.”

I manage to eke out a tremulous, “I’m fine,” though I know none of them believe me. Rick hands me a tissue, Bryan stares at me with so much pain in his eyes that it nearly causes me to burst into more tears, and Niall breathes steadily down the line. My hand shakes as I reach for the phone, taking the call off speakerphone and pressing the device to my ear.

“I’m… I’m fine, babe.”

“Are you sure? When is your flight for New York? I’ll -”

“You’ll stay where you are.” I sigh, turning to rest my forehead against the cool plaster of the wall. “I’ll be fine. I just got blindsided today, that’s all. But can, can you promise to be by your phone while I’m gone, in case I need to talk to you again?”

“Oh, love, of course. I’ll keep the volume up the whole time. Call me anytime you need to, okay?”

“I will.”

Sniffling, I end the call and hand the phone back to Bryan. He pulls me closer for a tight hug then peeks out into the hallway. The corridor is empty as he guides me out of the room, but he and Rick stay close to my side on the trek to the car. I repeatedly glance over my shoulder, making sure no one is following us. The uneasiness that’s settled in my belly only grows harder to ignore, and I swallow down the urge to beg Bryan to take me back home.


	18. Chapter 18

By the time I’m settled in on the flight to New York, the interview I did in San Diego is already on the airwaves, the internet. I try my best to not watch it, but I cave as soon as we land. Bryan takes up post next to me in the backseat of the cab, not trying to stop me from loading the video, though he doesn’t look happy about it.

I can’t blame him. It is terrifying to watch my expression go abruptly blank, eyes glassy as my hands tremble violently in my lap. I can’t imagine how he and Rick must have felt having to handle the fallout. On-screen, Alyson tries to do damage control, but the video goes dark within seconds of my mental snap. Not before I see Bryan pulling me into his arms and bridal-carrying me off the studio floor.

Rick hands me a bottle of water from the fridge, and I take it from him and lower myself onto the hotel couch. I’m thankful that my management company opted for a suite; I know I’ll sleep better with Rick and Bryan nearby. My phone buzzes again in my pocket, and I sigh, pulling it out.

> **From: Mom**  
>  **>** _Hey, sweetie. Your dad and I saw the interview. Are you ok?_
> 
> **To: Mom**  
>  **<** _Yeah I’m fine. Gonna call Kimball in a few tho_
> 
> **From: Mom**  
>  **>** _Ok. We love you._  
>  **>** _Have you talked to Niall?_
> 
> **To: Mom**  
>  **<** _Yep. Bry called him immediately after the interview. I love you, too, Mom._

Bryan drops onto the couch next to me, his hand coming up to scratch lightly at my scalp, and I melt into the contact. He’s learnt over the years that the quickest way to get me to relax is with physical connection, and he wields that weapon well. I’m half-asleep when my phone vibrates on my thigh, and I groan but peel my eyes open.

“You interrupted my nap,” I whine in lieu of an actual greeting.

“I was just making sure you made it there, petal.”

“Sorry, babe. I’m sleepy.”

Niall laughs, soft and sweet, and I ache to be home with him again. “I know. When is your interview?”

“Bry, when is my interview?”

Bryan grumbles about me needing a PA but checks the calendar on his phone, and I pass the information on to my husband. He hums in his throat then suggests I take a nap. It’s a good suggestion, one I was already considering myself, but I pout anyway. I can’t argue, though, so I reluctantly agree.

Thankfully, I manage to feel less like I’ve been torn apart by the time I wake from my nap. Rick hands me a to-go cup, and I sniff daintily at the lid. Peppermint. I manage to hide the fact I’m rolling my eyes even as I take a sip. My eyes widen when the tea hits my tongue. It’s almost perfect. Steeped slightly too long, but the bitterness is hidden well enough under the honey and splash of cream.

“I need a PA,” I mutter as I scroll through the emails on my phone, and Bryan snorts inelegantly. “Bry, be my PA.”

“I can keep your ass safe or I can be your gofer. Which one?”

“I vote keeping my ass safe.”

“So do I.”

“Think Niall might have an issue with me doing a shoot for Playboy?” I ask lightly as I send the email offer to my spam folder. Rick yanks me to a stop, and I squeal when hot tea hits my hand. Turning betrayed eyes on him, I shove my phone into my pocket and wipe my burnt thumb on my leggings. “I was _kidding_!”

He gestures with his chin toward the building we’ve been walking toward, and I swallow thickly at the sight of the people standing out front. It’s been a while since there have been this many people gathered for me; it hasn’t happened since before my pregnancy news hit the media. I clutch my cup tighter in my hand, shift closer to Rick’s side, and stick close to him as we continue our trek to the door.

Everyone is weirdly kind and not pushy at all - completely unexpected, but I don’t question it. My heart pounds beneath my sternum, and I do my best to ignore the voice screaming _Red alert! Red alert!_ in my mind as I sign autographs and take pictures.

It isn’t until the last handful of fans that I begin to panic further, and I lose my temper when someone’s hand presses roughly against my belly without permission. I smack the hand away, scramble backwards from the touch. Bryan shoves himself between the girl and me.

If she had any sort of self-preservation instinct, she would look a helluva lot more terrified at the expression on his face. As it is, she does nothing more than glare at me and storm off. I stutter out a shaky apology to those still waiting. They seem to understand, though they slump in disappointment.

This interview goes much more smoothly than the one in San Diego, even when Bryan refuses to allow the assistant to give me any coffee. She helpfully offers decaf, but I turn it down. Decaffeinated coffee is a travesty to the heavenly beverage that is coffee.

No questions are asked about my pregnancy, Jem, or my marriage outside of if I think being married to Niall has inadvertently helped me gain a larger fanbase. Thankfully, my non-answer is answer enough, so the host moves to the next portion of the interview - a game.

“Okay, so in this game, we’ll play you a few audio clips. You have to recognise the song and artist or speaker.”

“So they’re not all gonna be clips of songs?”

Monique laughs quietly, shaking her head. “Nope! We’re going to make it more of a challenge.”

“What do I get if I win?”

“You’ll find that out if you win! Are you ready?”

I give a vigorous nod, then agree verbally when I remember the listeners can’t hear my head moving. Monique motions toward the sound engineer to start the queue of clips, and I adjust my headphones to better hear them.

_I got a_ \- “Oh, my gods, _Drag Me Down_ , One Direction, I love you for this.”

Monique laughs, presses a button, and a dinging noise fills my ears. “Good job! I think your husband might have a problem if you didn’t recognise his voice. Okay, next one.”

_You watch_ \- “Oh, crap, I know this one. Uh, Justin Bieber? Um… yeah, I don’t know.”

A buzzer sounds. Monique shakes her head and tells me it was _Stitches_ by Shawn Mendes. I shrug off the wrong answer and chew on my bottom lip as a burst of static comes through my headphones then -

_I was workin’ part-time_ \- I giggle and shift the microphone in front of my face. “Wow, way to throw it back. Prince, _Raspberry Beret_. She wore a raspberry beret, the kind that you find in a secondhand store,” I sing, and Monique laughs, clapping her hands to the beat.

She plays four more songs, and I recognise three of them, feeling especially proud when I recognise Fleetwood Mac’s _Monday Morning_ before a full word plays. I can’t place any of the speaking clips, but Monique doesn’t judge me too harshly for it even when I don’t recognise Harry’s distinctive voice from some awards show.

“Well, Erin, you did far better than I expected, but you unfortunately, got one more incorrect than you got correct.”

“Damn it, I tried so hard! I blame Harry for this. This is all his fault.”

“Aw, you look so sad!” Monique cocks her head to the side, smiling softly. “Okay, so I’m not supposed to do this considering you lost the game, but here’s your prize anyway.”

She passes over a bag, and I let out a laugh when I see that it’s stuffed full of candies and snack packets of crackers. I immediately fish out a chocolate, unwrapping it and popping it into my mouth. It’s _good_ chocolate, too, rich and creamy and not at all Hershey’s.

“Holy Hell-balls, this is fantastic, thank you!”

Bryan rolls his eyes but accepts the Smarties I hand him, whereas Rick politely declines. Monique ends the segment and waits for the On Air light to go out before setting her headphones aside. She walks with us out of the room, closing the door behind us.

“So now that we’re not surrounded by recording equipment, I was wondering how you’re doing after San Diego.”

My breath comes out in a shuddering gust, the chocolate turning acidic at her question, and I nod slowly. “Yeah, I think I’m fine now. It was just… a shock. But I’m okay.”

“Good. Well, I hope for the best with the rest of your pregnancy, and I can’t wait to have you back on the show again.”

“Have your peeps hit up mine, and we’ll work something out.”

Her laughter follows us down the winding corridors, and I lean heavily into Bryan’s side as Rick leads us out the doors. Bryan mutters that I’m going to give myself diabetes if I keep eating candy; all I do in response is stick my tongue out at him and put another chocolate in my mouth.


	19. Chapter 19

Niall squeezes my hand gently, and I pull myself out the loop of mindless scrolling of Instagram that I’ve been stuck in for the last ten minutes. Smiling apologetically, I exit out the app and lock my phone. He frowns, runs his thumb along the side of my index finger.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course I am. Why?”

“You look… nervous.” He pauses. “Love, are you still worried that Doctor Porter is going to be upset with you?”

“I’ve only gained a few pounds since my last appointment. What if he doesn’t think it’s enough?”

“You’ve been eating healthy foods, eating high-protein snacks amongst all your weird cravings, and keeping yourself somewhat active. He’s going to be happy with any amount of weight gain.”

“If he’s not, I’m gonna laugh in your face.”

Niall rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else. We wait in silence until Gina calls us back with a wide smile. He stays off to the side while I step onto the scale, while the nurse takes my blood pressure, while I awkwardly hop up to sit on the edge of the examination table. As soon as I’m settled in, he steps closer to my side, reaching for my hand again.

This is the first appointment that Niall has been able to come to. Between the band and then his vacation, he hadn’t had the time, but now he’s here. I tap my fingernail on the back of his hand and blow him a kiss when he looks at me. He grins, ducking down to press his lips to mine. There’s something in his eyes when he pulls back, something I can’t really read but can guess at.

“Nervous yet excited?”

“Very.”

“Just be glad you weren’t at the first one. That one was awkward.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because the only person’s fingers I appreciate being up in my vagina are yours.”

“Well, hello to you, too, Mrs Horan.”

Niall’s cheeks flush as Doctor Porter closes the door behind him, and I give both men my brightest smile. My husband looks less than amused at my crass statement being overheard, but I don’t care - the doc will hear much worse from me over the next few months. Doctor Porter takes a seat, looks over my file. I barely manage to not squirm when he turns his attention to me.

“You managed three pounds since last month. Honestly, I… I would have preferred at least five, ten at the most, considering you were underweight to begin with. So what I want from you is to add more healthy snacks and some meal replacement drinks to help you pack on some pounds, okay?”

“Other than that, she’s doing fine, though?”

I barely manage to not roll my eyes at Niall’s question; the man worries more than he should, really. Doctor Porter takes the enquiries in stride, assuring my husband that I am indeed healthy and progressing very well even with the lack of significant weight gain. I scratch at my eyebrow as I answer the doctor’s questions about my sleeping, diet and prenatal vitamins, and the baby’s movements. He seems pleased with my responses.

“Oh! Before you go, what’s the verdict on coffee consumption?” I ask as Doctor Porter heads toward the door, and Niall sighs heavily at my side.

The doctor stifles a smile at my husband’s reaction - it’s well-known amongst the office staff that my coffee habits are a point of contention between Niall and me. I complained about it enough at my first appointment. He does look a bit sheepish as he answers me.

“As far as we know, it’s safe to ingest small amounts of caffeine a day. No more than two hundred milligrams. Studies have been done, but we just don’t have enough information to be able to say with complete certainty one way or the other. We just strongly recommend that you limit your caffeine intake as much as possible.”

With another smile, he leaves us with a promise that a tech will be in shortly for the ultrasound. I’m well-aware that I don’t need another one already - one was just done a few weeks ago - but I want Niall to be able to see the imaging in person. To hear the heartbeat coming from the life we created together. Printed sonograms and the CD made with the recording aren’t the same.

“Okay, so still sticking with not knowing?” Millie asks as she settles in on the stool.

“Nope. We wanna be surprised.”

“Although finding out might stop our... debates,” Niall counters, and I stick my tongue out at him. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot you love our debates.”

“It’s gonna be a boy. Calling it now. But no. Please don’t tell us.”

Millie laughs and readies the machine. Niall squeezes my hand gently, brows furrowing at my grimace when Millie squirts gel onto my belly, but then he’s distracted by the rhythmic whooshing sounds that fill the room. As he stares at the monitor, I stare at him, his wobbly smile and eyes that glitter with tears, the pure happiness on his face as he listens to our child’s heartbeat in person for the first time.

His fingers tighten around mine, but he doesn’t look away from the screen. “That’s her.”

“Him.”

“Let me have this.”

“Fine,” I grumble without heat. “For the next five minutes, you can win this argument.”

It takes almost an hour and an absurd amount of teary eyes (mostly Niall’s), but then we’re following Bryan back to the car. I lean against my husband once we buckle ourselves into the backseat, and he angles his body toward mine. His hand rests gently on my belly, thumb stroking soft circles into the skin.

“That was…”

I understand his speechlessness - I felt much the same after the first sonogram, and that feeling flares up again every time I feel the baby moving around. “I know. Gods, we’re gonna be parents.”

“Just a little under twenty weeks to go.”

“Where we goin’, guys?”

“Home, please, Bry,” I call up to the front seat. “I need a nap.”

**[-_-_-_-]**

I set Doris aside - _again_ \- and frown down at my hands. It’s been a few days since the appointment, and Niall has been… insufferable, really. It’s like hearing our baby’s heartbeat in person kickstarted the bits of his personality that begs for him to be too overprotective. I can’t fault him for it, though. I know I can’t, and it certainly isn’t fair of me to be so frustrated by it.

He has been right by my side almost every second of every day. The only time I get away from him is if I’m using the toilet. As annoying as it can be, though, I keep reminding myself that I am incredibly lucky. I have a wonderful husband who doesn’t hesitate to dote on me, a terrific support system of our friends and family, and the ability to not work right up until I pop.

Sighing, I push to my feet, swaying slightly before righting myself, and head toward the stairs. Niall looks up from the guitar in his hands, grins at me as his fingers pick at the strings. I shuffle across the room to sit next to him on the couch, wincing at the twinge in my hip.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just muscle stretching, I guess. What’cha doing?”

“Not much. Just writing a bit. Get bored?”

I exhale slowly and sink further against the cushions, but I don’t answer. He knows damn well that I’m bored. Amber hasn’t been around since before I did the interviews, Nat has been busy being a mom, my parents have their own lives to tend to. The guys are occupied with whatever they’re doing now that the band is on hiatus, which has left me with fuck all to do. I close my eyes as the tune Niall is playing turns softer, sweeter, and he shifts beside me.

“How does this sound? Then I think of the start, and it echoes a spark, and I remember the magic, electricity,” he sings, and my brows furrow as I think.

“I mean, it sounds lovely, but... also very melancholic. Like it’s about the end of a relationship.” I turn my head to look at him. “Do we need to talk?”

He huffs out a laugh, finally setting the guitar aside. “Of course not, darling. Just something I’ve been working on.”

“Not tired of me yet?”

It’s meant as a joke, but the hard kiss he gives me then tells me he didn’t take it that way. As if he’s proving his love and dedication to me. As if he is desperate to remind me that our vows weren’t just for show. I’m breathless by the time he pulls away, and my fingers wrap in the collar of his shirt to pull him right back in.

“You sure?” he whispers against my lips; I growl low in my throat in response.

“Niall James Horan, if your ass isn’t up in our bed in the next three minutes, I will not only be seriously deficient of caffeine but also incredibly devastated that you won’t fuck me.”

He at least has the decency to help me to my feet first.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wasn't going to post today. not originally. my brain is a fucking mess, tbh, so i was going to take a break. but i need the normalcy right now, so...here we are.

The clock ticks away another minute. I have less than two hours before the _Promise on the Stars_ music video drops, and I’m beyond excited for it. It’s been a long time coming. I am also incredibly nervous. This video is different than any I’ve put out before. It isn’t a performance, it isn’t a four-minute movie. It doesn’t tell a story. There is no cohesive theme to it except for our love.

More than that, though, this is the first time that Niall and I will be so public with our marriage or the pregnancy. Beyond the occasional paparazzi photos and the tidbits we deign to share in interviews, we’ve kept our lives as private as possible. Even in the beginning stages of our relationship, we did everything we could to not give the entire world fodder for gossip. But now… Now I want people to see that what Niall and I have is just like any other relationship - we’re disgustingly sweet with each other, we are crazy for each other, our worlds revolve around each other.

Niall sprawls on the couch, his head on my lap, and grins up at me. “Watching the clock doesn’t make it go faster.”

“Shush, I’m not watching the clock.”

“How much longer?”

“One hour, forty-three minutes.” I flick his nose gently when he laughs. “Stop teasing me.”

He presses a kiss to my belly then sits up. I instinctively lean into him, and he chuckles quietly. “Everyone is on their way, your parents included. Ma and Dad said they would Skype once they watched the video.”

“Wait, what?”

“You... didn’t think they’d not watch it or tell you how they enjoyed it, did you?”

“It’s so late there, though.”

“They don’t care. Love, you’re family now, so of course they’re going to support you.”

“Think they’d mind Skyping while watching?”

Niall’s answering smile is enough to assure me that what I’m asking isn’t out of the realm of reasonable. He promises to text them and ask, and I pat his stomach before pushing to my feet. I can’t sit still any more. My legs might as well be bagged-up insects buzzing to get free, my heart thundering in my chest. The baby slowly stops moving as much the longer I pace; I rub my palm over my belly in circles and breathe as evenly as possible.

Ten minutes before the video is meant to go live, I’m surrounded by our friends and my parents, Niall’s parents on my laptop. Everyone chats over each other, but I sit back and enjoy the sounds of laughter. It is loud and chaotic, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. It isn’t until Amber and Harry make their way through the living room, each carrying trays of champagne glasses, that we all start settling down.

“And here we go,” I announce as YouTube alerts me that the video has officially begun.

It’s better than I could have anticipated. My best friend’s magic with a camera is unparallelled. Watching what she has done fills me with far more awe than any professional team’s work, and I giggle when I catch her hiding her face. Natalie leans into my side, grinning brightly at me.

I stare around at my loved ones to watch their reactions; warm joy explodes in my chest at the way Maura’s face brightens, her eyes gleaming with tears at the clips of Niall and me laughing with each other, interspersed with photographs of my relationship with Niall.

The video comes to an end, but silence still reigns in the house. For a split second. Then family and friends are cheering. I get no warning before Natalie is throwing her arms around my shoulders, hugging me tightly. I’m pushed from person to person, laughing and crying as they congratulate me. I finally manage to sit back down on the couch to listen to Niall’s parents.

“It was lovely, pet. The song is beautiful, and I loved the video. It’s so cute.”

“Thanks, Maura. I’m... I’m really proud of it.”

Bobby smiles, nods enthusiastically. “You should be! We’re very proud of you, Erin.”

“Thank you!”

They end the video-chat after a few more minutes of praise, and I carefully close my laptop and turn to my mom. She sits next to me, an arm coming up to wrap around my shoulder, and Natalie presses a smacking kiss to my cheek before bounding away to steal her child back from Harry.

“Mom?”

“It was amazing, sweetheart. And... it made me realise that I was too hard on you about your marriage.” She sighs heavily and sips at her champagne. When she looks at me, her pale eyes glimmer in the lamp-light. “I can’t take back what I said, but I wish I could. I just, I want you to be happy, but the mom part of me wants to shield you from all danger. And I’m so sorry.”

I catch Niall’s eye from across the room; he tilts his head in question, but I don’t need him for this. This is something I have to do on my own.

“It’s - no, it’s not okay. What you said really fucking hurt. I had a feeling that you weren’t as happy about Niall and me getting married as I hoped you would be, but that didn’t give you the right to basically slam me for making a choice that made me happier than I ever could have dreamt of being. Niall is an amazing man that will make sure I spend the rest of my life as happy and safe and content as possible.”

She nods slowly, opening her mouth to say something. Unfortunately, whatever she’s about to say, I don’t get to hear. Someone has decided to start up their Spotify, and _Bennie and the Jets_ blares through the room. My mom rolls her eyes with a laugh at Amber’s apologetic grin before the volume levels out.

After hugging me tightly, my mother moves away to get a chance to hold Levi. Niall takes her place, and I lean against him as we watch our friends sipping champagne and talking and enjoying time together. A warmth settles in my chest at the sight of everyone I love so relaxed.

Niall guides me to our bedroom after three more hours of chatting and singing along to whatever song Spotify chose - I hope someone recorded Natalie, Amber, and me doing our best to channel Freddie Mercury’s power-vocals in _Bohemian Rhapsody_. With the excitement of the day, along with the fact that I’m growing another human, I am beyond exhausted. I don’t bother changing into pyjamas, I just strip from my leggings and knitted sweater before climbing into bed. Niall wraps his arm over my waist, hand pressing securely against my belly, and kisses the top of my skull.

“Goodnight, petal.”

“Night, babe,” I sigh, eyes slipping closed, and I fall fast asleep.

**____________**

Snoring comes from behind me, soft and steady in the dark of the room, and I bite my lip when Niall mutters under his breath. I know it’s early, far earlier than I’m used to waking. After a night of peaceful sleep and no bad dreams, though, I am pretty sure I’ve had enough rest. I carefully push myself to sit up, turn to look at Niall over my shoulder. He sleeps on, so I lean against the headboard and reach for my phone.

I frown at the screen when I open Instagram to see hundreds of comments have been left. I haven’t posted anything on here in two weeks, not since I announced which song was going to be the first single. Niall scoots closer and exhales slowly, his hand coming to rest against the side of my thigh. Chuckling softly, I turn my attention back to the post.

It’s a good photo - in it, Niall and I are laughing, smiling at each other, as I stand in the circle of his arms. We look happy. Disgustingly, deliriously in love. Wrapped up in each other as if the world around us doesn’t exist. Which isn’t far from the truth. I still can’t wrap my mind around how wonderful my life is. I glance at Niall, run my fingers lightly through his hair as I read the caption that Amber put with the post.

>   
>  _It’s been a long long long time since I’ve loved one of my own songs as much as I love this one. It was so much fun to write, record, and make this video for (thanks to my absolute bestie for her hard work!!!). It feels like my entire life has lead up to this point. Every bad time I’ve had feels like forever ago. I’ll always have the scars to remind me, but when I think of where I am now in life - married to the most amazing man I have ever known, about to have our child, surrounded by the love of our families and friends, and making music that reflects that - I can’t deny how lucky and, quite frankly, privileged I am._
> 
> _All of this is possible because you, my lovely fans. You supported Complete Irrationality when we were just some little-known band from SoCal. You supported ME when CI broke up after Jem. And I can never thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me, and I really really really hope you love this song and video as much as I do. (p.s., any rude comments will be deleted immediately and you will be blocked. Your negativity is NOT appreciated or welcome at all. Ever.)_

**To: Lambchop**   
_Thank you for that post. Now stay out of my mind - it’s weird when you can say exactly what I’m thinking and feeling. Love you, boob!!!_

Once the text has been delivered, I go back to the post and scroll through the comments. To my surprise, none of them are rude. In fact, they’re overwhelmingly sweet. Almost all of them revolve around noting my belly, how I’m “glowing”, and how sickeningly cute the picture is. There are a couple, however, that compliment how beautiful Niall and I are but point out the champagne flutes on the tables behind us, asking why there are so many.

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I exit out of the app and go to YouTube to check how the music video is doing. It’s doing very well - over four thousand views, and almost two thousand comments. I make a mental note to read them later. For now, I decide to thank everyone at once in a video for my Instagram story.

“Hey, everyone. Sorry it’s so dark. And sorry I’m talking so quietly. Hope you can hear me anyway. I want to say how thankful I am that my song and video has been so well-received. Seriously, I did not expect it. And thank you so much for your love and your concern regarding the champagne. Don’t worry, I only had water all night. The liquor went to those who can drink, I promise.”

“Who are you talking to?” Niall mumbles next to me, burying his face into his pillow.

“Instagram. Before you ask, it’s... five-oh-seven.”

“Too early. Tell them to bother you later, go back to sleep.”

“You go back to sleep. I’m showing appreciation.” I giggle when he huffs in irritation before turning over to face the other way. I roll my eyes and go back to what I was doing. “Anyway. As I was saying, thank you all so much. I love you, every single one of you, more than I can ever say. Now, baby and I need some food, so I’ll chat with you all later.”

“Do I have to get up?”

I finish posting the video then lean over as much as I can to brush a kiss to his shoulder. “No. I think I can feed myself.”

Niall is already back to sleep before I even get out of bed. Fluttering kicks up in my belly, the effects of a very active baby, and I let out a sigh when I realise I really have to pee.

“You don’t make life easy, you know this, right?” I mutter down to my abdomen as I make my way to the toilet.


	21. Chapter 21

Amber holds up a finger as she steps into the house, and I close the door as quietly as I can before trailing after her to the kitchen. She tucks her phone between her cheek and shoulder, sets her iced mocha on the table, and pulls off her jacket, all without speaking. I return to my seat and pick at my breakfast, watching my best friend’s face darken at whatever she hears on the other end of the call.

“I never missed a day, what are you talking about? No, I had that day off. Yes, I did. I took - whatever. Fi - _Fine_. Bye.” She stabs at the button to end the call, dropping her phone to the tabletop, and drops into the chair across from me. “Choke on a dick, Jay. Hi, babe.”

“Everything okay?”

“Just lost my job is all.”

“Because of all the times you came to see me on the road?”

She shakes her head, stealing a banana slice off my plate. “Nah. Well, according to them, I missed too many days, but any time I came to see you, I had those days off. They’re just mad because I got their favourite supervisor fired. Where’s Niall?”

“He has some things to do today, so he’s getting ready.”

“And he’s leaving you all alone?”

“Thank fuck,” I mutter as I stab at a strawberry with my fork. “I’ll explain later. How attached to that coffee are you?”

She nudges the drink closer to me, and I shove my plate away in favour of sucking down as much chocolaty cold coffee as I can. She raises a brow at my exuberance, but I ignore her. It’s not something I can explain - not with Niall right upstairs.

Footsteps thunder down the stairs, interrupting anything I might want to say. I hurriedly push the cup back in front of Amber; Niall comes to a stop when he sees Amber sat at the table, his gaze flicking between the two of us and the iced mocha.

“Oh. Hi.”

“Mornin’. I’m stealing some precious time with our girl today, if you don’t mind.”

Niall shrugs, ambling to my side to kiss me gently. “Hope you two have fun. I love you.”

“Come back home to me,” I whisper against his lips, feel his smile on mine.

“I always will.”

As soon as he’s out the front door, Amber turns on me, demanding an explanation. I tell her the truth: no matter what my doctor says, Niall will give me A Look full of loving judgement if he thinks I’m drinking too much caffeine or pushing myself too hard. Which is ridiculous. I’ve reached absurd levels of “laziness” since I finished recording the album.

“I know why, really, I do. He’s worried about the baby. But fucking Hell, I’d like to just not, y’know, have to constantly second-guess what I do because I don’t wanna deal with Judgey McJudgerson.”

Amber pushes the mocha towards me again then reaches for my hand. I let her haul me to my feet, follow after her to the living room. She sets about getting reruns of _Phineas and Ferb_ on the television, then makes sure I’m comfortable before dropping to sit next to me.

“If it makes you feel any better about it, I think maybe you got away with stealing my drink today.”

“I hope so,” I sigh. “I certainly fucking hope so.”

**[-_-_-_-]**

Gold tints the horizon, bleeding pink and orange through the expanse of navy, and a soft breeze rustles in the treetops. The world is slowly waking, but I’ve been up for an hour. The nightmare replays in my mind, fading fast yet no less terrifying. Shivering, I reach for a mug, fill it quickly with coffee, and wrap my hands around the porcelain.

I lean against the counter and sip carefully. Fire erupts in my mouth, on my tongue, but I use the pain to further dispel the panic that clings to me. The dream had been so awful, full of every doubt and fear I’ve had since the pregnancy tests came back positive. Something happening to our child, something happening to _us_ , coming home from a tour to find my baby didn’t recognise me...

My breath hitches, and I swallow another mouthful of coffee instead of giving in to the anxiety. A quiet _slap-slap_ of bare feet against flooring sounds then Niall comes into view. He scrubs at his eyes, yawns widely.

“What are you doing up, love? It’s not even seven.”

“Couldn’t sleep any longer,” I admit quietly, frowning down at the mug in my hands.

“Nightmare again?”

It isn’t a question that requires an answer. Niall has heard about the bad dreams since they started, though I know he’s worried. He and I both hoped that time and assurances from the doctors would make them go away. So far, all the nightmares have done is grow in intensity.

He shuffles across the kitchen to my side, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple. “Have you talked to Doctor Kimball?”

“Both of them, yeah. They don’t really have any suggestions beyond addressing the possible causes and working through them.” I sigh, shift so he can start the kettle for tea. “I wish I knew why the dreams keep happening.”

“Because you’re scared. This is new for you. I’m... I’m scared, too. But we’ll get through this together, you know that.”

“What the hell?” I nearly shout when Niall pulls the mug from my hand and pours the coffee down the drain. My nightmares are now the furthest thing from my mind. “You heard Doctor Porter - I can have coffee!”

“I know, but you also need to take it easy on the caffeine. You’ve had coffee every day for the last week, and don’t think I didn’t notice you stealing Amber’s mocha the other day. If you really want the taste of coffee -”

“Don’t you dare.”

“We can get decaf.”

“That is blasphemy. Sacrilege. Betrayal of the highest order. Torture like that has been banned, I’ll have you know. It’s in the constitution.”

“Good thing I’m an Irishman, so your constitution means nothing to me.”

“It’s also in the Geneva Convention, and Ireland definitely abides by _that_.”

Niall shakes his head with a soft chuckle, rinsing out my mug against my protests. I cross my arms over my chest and pout even as I let him lead me to the table. Propping one elbow onto the table, I rest my chin on my hand and watch him move about the kitchen. His soft humming fills the room, my heart, and as frustrating as it is to have him being so damn protective, I can’t say that I really mind. Not when I know it’s only because he loves me and our unborn child.

“Talked to the guys lately?” I ask after a few minutes, and he glances back at me over his shoulder before focusing on the tea in front of him. “Just asking ‘cause I haven’t. Which isn’t nice of them. They all promised to keep in touch. I mean, I expected it of Zayn, since he’s told me repeatedly he sucks at maintaining contact with people.”

He shrugs slightly. “I would be surprised if any of them kept in contact, honestly. Liam is probably still recovering from… everything, and I’d gamble all we have that Harry is planning out a solo career. And Louis’s adjusting to being a dad, you know that.”

“I know. I just miss my brothers, that’s all.”

“I’m sure they miss you, petal.” He slides a mug of tea onto the table in front of me, leaning down to brush a kiss to my temple. “You’re hard as Hell to not miss.”

“Is that a fat joke?”

“Wha - no, of course it isn’t!”

I giggle and sip at the drink and whine petulantly when it scalds my tongue. “I know, babe. I’m just being an ass. I think I’m going to take a nap in a bit, if you’re okay with that.”

Niall frowns as he drops into the seat next to me. It isn’t shocking that he rushes to assure me that I’m free to sleep for as long as I’d like, but it still makes me feel less guilty about being so lazy constantly. In my defence, growing another human is really hard work. Tiring, really. I startle when Niall pushes to his feet abruptly, and he apologises as he sets about scrounging up a breakfast that my stomach can tolerate.

The nap isn’t as long as I would have hoped; it is incredibly difficult to sleep with an active baby using my bladder as a trampoline. I stumble sleepily out of the bedroom, scrubbing at my eyes as I carefully make my way down the stairs. The television plays quietly in the living room, but the two men sat on the couch pay no mind to the show, instead talking amongst themselves.

“Moo? What are you doing here?”

Louis rolls his eyes though a smile graces his lips. “Am I ever going to live that down?”

“Nope. Siri deemed you ‘Moo’, so ‘Moo’ you shall be.”

“Siri misheard you saying ‘Lou’ because you had a mouthful of pizza.”

“Siri has spoken!” I announce as I shuffle to sit at Niall’s side. He presses a kiss to my temple, and I grin up at him, leaning into his side. “Hi, babe.”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Eh. Baby wanted to make my innards an amusement park. Not conducive to restful sleep.”

“Hey, mate, can I, er, talk to Erin alone? Just for a minute.”

Niall and I give our friend matching inquisitive looks, and he shrugs awkwardly. Something in his expression, edged with a discomfort I don’t expect, doesn’t sit well with me. I tilt my head up toward my husband, poking his chin.

“Kiss me so I can run off with your best friend.”

Niall’s laugh ghosts across my face, but he does as I demand then helps me to my feet. Louis slings an arm over my shoulders while we head to the stairs. I trust Niall not to eavesdrop - and gods know I’ll probably give him a rundown later over the conversation - but my gut tells me that Louis needs the extra reassurance that whatever he wants to tell me will be done in private.

I shut the door to the fully-soundproofed music room and weave through the room until I reach the armchair. Louis helps me sit, and even though it’s completely unnecessary, I allow it. The poor guy looks like he needs something to do that doesn’t involve being stuck in his own mind. Once I’m settled in my seat, he pulls a stool closer, perches on it, and silence reigns.

Louis keeps his eyes on his lap and fidgets with the string of his hoodie, and why he’s wearing a hoodie when it’s nearly ninety degrees outside, I’ll never understand. When he looks back up at me, his blue eyes are dark, serious in a way I don’t ever expect of him. He’s always been the sweet, giddy, spin-you-till-you-puke friend who’s kept so many of my secrets. I reach out and wrap my fingers around his.

“Lou, what’s going on?”

“I’m jealous of him,” he breathes out, a silent plea in his eyes.

My brows furrow, and I rack my brain for who he could be talking about. “Wait, _Sutton_?”

“Yeah.” He sighs and scrubs his free hand over his stubbled jaw. “I mean... I don’t even know. I, I don’t want to ruin their relationship. I’m glad she’s happy, and he’s really an okay bloke. And I don’t think it’s even so much that I want to be with her again. I just can’t stop thinking about what we could have had.”

“Oh, Moo-Moo.”

“You think I’m pathetic, don’t you.”

My heart aches at his question that isn’t really a question. It’s a statement of how he views himself, and the knowledge only serves to make me hurt more for him. I tighten my grip on his hand and give him as real of a smile as I can. Even through my grin, I know what I’m about to say will cause him worse pain.

“No. I don’t think that. I will never think that of you. But you don’t get to do this. Please don’t interrupt me, yeah? I mean, you can obviously think what you want, but you two made the decision to divorce. Well, you did more so than she did. But you got divorced. You two chose to not try for a relationship again while she was pregnant with Levi, when she was single and waiting for things to make sense.”

“What should I do?”

My brain stutters with the lack of a solution. Nothing I say can help him. No advice I give will ease the what ifs in his mind, the lost potentials. Sighing, I shift awkwardly in my seat.

“Lou, I hate to say it, but all you can do is be a damn good daddy to that little nugget. And if you ever, ever, _ever_ truly loved Natalie, you have to be supportive of her choice to find love with someone else.”

“So don’t tell her?”

“Don’t tell her. You’re my favourite from One D, but don’t think I won’t kick your ass if you try to fuck with her mind and heart.”

His lips twitch into the ghost of a smile. “Your favourite?”

“Don’t tell Niall,” I demand with a sniff, and his laughter is real, unexpected and bright. “I love you, Moo. You’ll get through this, I promise.”

“I know. Thanks, Erin. I, I appreciate you. You shouldn’t be put in the middle.”

“I’m not in the middle. I’m on the sidelines like a coach. That’s all. Now help me up. Baby wants pineapple.”

To Niall’s surprise, Louis leaves almost immediately after I’m down in the kitchen with a fork and tub of cubed pineapple. My husband stares after his friend then turns to me, one eyebrow raised. I sigh, shake my head, and pop another piece of fruit into my mouth. I do promise to explain it better at a later time; right now, I’m too preoccupied with trying to wrap my mind around the information that Louis has entrusted me with.


	22. Chapter 22

To my surprise, I’m the last one to arrive to the impromptu meeting. Even Zach has shown up before me, judging by the motorcycle parked right behind Owen’s Malibu. I shake my head even as I pull up into the last spot and shut off the engine. Sliding out of the truck, I shut the door behind me and make my way to the door.

“Does your old man know you drove yourself?”

“Is that any way to greet your favourite person in the world?” I poke Tanner’s stomach as I pass him. “Please tell me there’s caffeine in this house.”

“Some in the pot,” Owen calls from the living room, and I do a little shimmy before heading to the kitchen.

Lisa grins from where she’s pouring coffee into two mugs; she hands me one. “Heard your truck pull up.”

“You’re a godsend.”

She follows me to where the rest of our band is already gathered, and Zach helps me sit next to him on the sofa. Wincing at the rather painful jab to my ribs, I blow out a breath and run a hand over my belly, larger now that I’ve reached my twenty-ninth week. Tanner’s question was a good one, and now that I’m here, something tells me this is a thing I should have discussed with Niall before slipping out of the house. I can only imagine how he’s going to react when he finds out where I’ve been - and why.

“What’s going on, Erin?” Dawn asks quietly, dark eyes too knowing.

“Okay. I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked you to meet with me at, what, seven-thirty in the morning when you could’ve been with your families and friends. So I’ll make this short and sweet.” I inhale slowly then let it out in one big gust. “I’ve been doing some thinking. I, I know we all agreed to take some time off from music after this kid pops out, but I’m not sure how long it’ll be before I go back. Or if I even do.”

My announcement is met with nothing more than stunned silence, dropped jaws, and wide eyes. I am well aware of how much of a surprise this is to them, we’ve talked regularly about our plans for the future, but... I have to do what feels right to me. And being a musician, touring the world while I have a child at home, doesn’t exactly strike me as a good option.

It’s doable, certainly: Dawn has two little ones who stay with their dad while she’s on the road, and Owen is the father of a ten-year-old. They manage to juggle their parenting duties with their duties to the band, and their families don’t seem to detest me for them missing so much time at home. I just don’t know if I can do it.

I explain this to everyone as well as I possibly am able, and while none of my band-mates, my _friends_ , take it poorly, my eyes still prickle with tears at the thought that I’m letting them down. They have all been so accommodating with my mental health, my marriage, and now my pregnancy. And here I am, taking away the chance for them to make a living, most likely permanently.

“Guys, I’m so sorry.”

Lisa sets her cup aside, crossing the room to sit on my left; her arms come up to wrap around my shoulders. “What do you possibly have to be sorry about? Erin, if you’re doing what you think is best for you, how could we ever be upset about that?”

“Lees is right,” says Zach softly, and I let him take my coffee so he can squeeze my hand between his. “You know that we can all find other things to do. I mean, I don’t know about these assholes, but name a better guitarist than I am, and I’ll call you a liar.”

“Me?”

His lips twitch at my hesitant joke. “Okay, well, you don’t count. We all know you’re amazing. Look, kid, you worry about being a good mom to our niece or nephew, and we’ll take care of ourselves, okay?”

“If you end up coming back to the music thing, you know all of us will be right there at your side. All you have to do is say the word.”

“Damn it, Owen.” I brush the tears from my cheeks, sniffling as more replace them. “You’re making me cry.”

He shrugs. “Every pregnant person cries. It’s written in the hormonal Code of Conduct.”

My guilt at potentially failing these people disappears as I giggle wildly. I wiggle until I get to my feet, Zach’s hands gentle on my back as he pushes me forward, and Dawn hands me my mug off the coffee-table. I make my way back to the kitchen, drinking my coffee as quickly as possible on the trek. I know that I’m about to go back to a land of zero caffeine, so I’ll take as much as I can now.

“All right, well, I better get back before my husband notices I’ve gone missing.”

“How did you even get out without him noticing?” Tanner asks, and Zach raises a hand.

“Probably gave him some of that good lovin’ until he fell asleep.”

“You’re disgusting,” laughs Lisa, though Zach looks unrepentant.

I stop in the doorway to the living room, arms crossed over my chest, and chew on my lower lip. “Thanks for understanding, guys. I… I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

Owen stands, but before he can move any further, footsteps thunder down the hallway. I turn to see Spencer barrelling toward me, bracing myself for impact. The ten-year-old hugs me tightly then steps back to stare, wide-eyed and slack-jawed at my belly.

“Wow, Aunt Erin, you’re _big_.”

“Gee, thanks, brat. So are you.”

“Dad says I’m almost tall enough to play basketball.”

“Well, lemme let you in on a little secret.” I duck down to Spencer’s level and smile conspiratorially. “If you keep getting taller, you can make your dad super-jealous.”

“Go home, Erin.”

Spencer rolls his eyes at his father’s exasperation. “Come back soon so you can see me do a slam dunk!”

“I absolutely will, buddy.”

Niall is waiting outside for me by the time I pull up outside our house, and I hesitate before cutting the engine. The look on his face is largely unreadable, though I have no doubts that he’s angry with me. After all, I left while he was still sleeping without Bryan or him at my side. But the conversation I just had with my band was one that needed to be done alone.

His lips twitch as I make my way up to the door, but he knows better than to mention the fact that I’m just short of waddling at this point. He reaches for my hand, holds it tightly, and presses a kiss to my cheek. I smile to myself as I step into the house, my husband following close behind. Any hint of amusement disappears from his face as soon as the door is closed, blocking out any prying eyes.

“Where were you?” he asks quietly, tugging on my hand when I try to walk away. “Erin -”

“I’m going to get a drink, that’s all. I’m not trying to avoid this conversation.”

He waits until I’m sat at the table, a glass of water in front of me, to repeat his question. His hand rubs circles along my back, pressing warmth into my skin, and I sigh, fidgeting with the cup. Eventually, I clear my throat, though the buzzing in my blood doesn’t fade.

“I, uh, I went to talk to the band.”

“Okay. Why didn’t you wake me? I would’ve gone with you.”

I shake my head with a soft laugh. “I know. I know you would have. But I needed to do it alone.”

“I’m not even going to try to argue with that, but I want you to know that you’re wrong.”

“You don’t even know what I talked to them about!” I protest, giggling at the ridiculousness of his words - how can I be wrong if he has no idea what the topic was?

“So tell me what it was about, and I’ll be able to have a more accurate perspective.”

I push my hair from my face and stare down at the tabletop. The words are harder now than they were with my band, and I can’t place why. They’re the ones being affected by this decision the most - at least financially - so it shouldn’t be so difficult to tell my husband, the father of our unborn child, what my plans are. A shiver runs down my spine when his thumb brushes along the back of my neck, and I instinctively lean into him.

“I, I told them I might not go back to music after Baby is born.”

His hand stills on my shoulder, the silence between us deafening. After a long moment, I risk meeting his eye and wince when I see he’s frowning. I blow out a breath, take a sip of my water instead of asking what he is thinking. A tightness grows in my throat the longer he goes without speaking; am I letting him down, too, by making this decision?

“Why?”

I twitch at his voice, quiet but so loud. Accusing. My hands shake too much to hide it, so I tuck them between my thighs as I sigh. “Because I don’t know if I can do it, not with being a mother, too.”

“So do you expect me to quit making music, as well? I mean, I’m gonna be a dad, so does that mean I should do the same?”

“What? Of course not.”

Niall shakes his head, his fingers tugging gently at my chin until my face turns toward him. “Then why do you think you have to?”

“Babe...”

“No, Erin. There’s nothing you can say that would make this choice make sense.” His thumb wipes a tear from my cheek, and he smiles softly. “Unless you absolutely, without a doubt, want to be a stay-at-home mum, you shouldn’t stop doing what you love.”

“Who knows, I may love it.”

“Petal, you _love_ making music. So much. I used to think you loved music more than you love me, that’s how much you love doing what you do. I’m just, I’m afraid that you’ll lose your sense of self if you stop.”

“Babe -”

“I’m not saying a few months off after Baby arrives isn’t a good idea, it is. But indefinitely? You know you’d regret it.”

“I haven’t made a final decision,” I manage to whisper through numb lips, but I know he’s right. Even if it turns out that I find enjoyment out of being home with our child, losing my music would kill an enormous part of me. It would be something I could never get over.

Thankfully, Niall lets the subject drop. He pulls me further into his side and kisses my hair, but he doesn’t mention me leaving the music industry again. I’m grateful for it - I am already having a hard enough time warring against myself, and constantly re-thinking is doing me no good. All it’s doing is causing a headache.

The rest of the morning slips by far too fast. Niall and I don’t do much, just lie about and spend the hours relaxing. We both know that the next eleven weeks will herald in the end of this time together. Of being able to make our own schedules and throw them out the window. Of not having responsibilities beyond breathing.

“Think Amber would be upset if I hired her to be my PA?” I question without bothering to open my eyes, though I can sense the way Niall stills from where he’s putting on his shoes.

“I don’t think so,” he replies slowly, and his footsteps near the couch. “Why?”

“I need a PA. She needs a job.”

“Would she even want to do this kind of stuff?”

I shrug, shift to get more comfortable on the couch even knowing that the baby kicking in my belly isn’t going to make that possible. “I mean, she was the one who did all the shit in the beginning. Keeping track of financial stuff, promoting Complete and our gigs, posted all the photos and vlogs from our festival days and studio time. So I don’t see why not, especially since she’d be getting paid this time.”

“Well, you should ask her then. Okay, petal, I’m going to be late if I don’t leave right now.”

“Go, go. Baby and I will be just fine. Probably gonna take a nap. We don’t need you for that particular event. We earn our gold medals on our own.”

He’s still laughing as he closes the door behind him.


	23. Chapter 23

Natalie and Amber exchange a glance over my head, and frustration flares up in me. I know they’re confused - I’d rang them both this morning in tears, and I still have yet to explain what the Hell is going on. So their puzzlement is completely understandable. I certainly wouldn’t mind it if I wasn’t in the middle of my breakdown.

But how dare they act like I’m not going to see them having silent conversations with their eyes about me? I push my way out of their arms, my skin crawling with whatever it is that consumes me from the inside out, only to cry harder when I realise I can’t stand properly. No matter how hard I wiggle and struggle, I can’t get to my feet without gravity making me its prisoner.

Amber reaches out; her hand is gentle on my back, but I smack it away. I don’t want or need her help. She sighs and rolls her eyes but still holds her hands up in surrender. Her capitulation does nothing to ease my irritation. In fact, it makes it worse. She wouldn’t give up so easily if it weren’t for the fact that I’m almost thirty-weeks pregnant. We both know it, and that information only makes me angrier.

Amber reaches for me again, and this time, I let her card her fingers through my hair. “Erin, honey, talk to us. What’s going on?”

“I… I don’t even know. I just, I hate her.”

“Who are you talking about?” Nat asks quietly. I groan and cover my face with my hands.

“That girl! The one from the other day.”

Silence reigns deafeningly in the room, interrupted only by my sniffling. Then one of them clears her throat.

“Do you mean the _woman_ who did the interview with Niall the other day, about his upcoming album? The one that he’s been in and out of the studio for?” Amber question hesitantly yet pointedly.

“Yes! Her!”

“Okay. Can I ask why you hate her?”

“She made him smile a lot. He doesn’t smile like that with me any more.”

The memory of the video flashes in my mind, and my tears start up again. I know - I _know_ \- that it sounds ridiculous to them, but I also know that I’m telling the truth. Niall smiled way more with that woman than he has since I got pregnant, and I can only conclude that it’s because I’m pregnant. Our entire relationship changed the second those two pink lines showed up. It was only a matter of time before it became too much.

“No. Don’t you dare.”

I jerk at Natalie’s voice, loud and hard in my ear. “What the -”

“You’re allowing yourself to think things that aren’t true. Niall loves you, okay? He does. If you actually _looked_ at the smile on his face during that interview, you’d see it was his polite, ‘I’m only happy because I’m talking about music’ smile.”

“But she was prettier than me,” I whisper, hiccuping as I wipe my palms across my cheeks.

Amber snorts and pulls me into her side. “Dude, she was pretty, sure, but not in that whole pregnancy-induced glowing way. Besides, she’s at least ten years older than us.”

“And Niall is married to and in love with _you_ ,” Natalie adds, poking my cheek until I slap tiredly at her finger. “He loves you, and he loves that baby you’re growing. No other woman will ever compare.”

My best friends let me flop backwards between them, but neither of them says anything more. They don’t need to, not really. I already know this is all blown completely out of proportion. Sighing, I scrub at my face and stare blankly at the ceiling.

“I’m being an idiot. Sorry.”

Natalie strokes her hand over my hair, smiling down at me. “Not an idiot. Just hormonal and not thinking properly.”

“How the Hell did you deal with this?” I whine petulantly, and she laughs. “No, seriously, how did you deal with the whole ‘one perceived slight, and I’m going to fall apart’ thing?”

“Trust me, it wasn’t easy. But Louis and Goose, Garrett… everyone, really. They made it easier to handle.”

Amber’s phone trills next to her thigh, and I attempt to sit up while she reads the text message. Nat ends up having to help push me upwards; I bite back the irritation at feeling so helpless. This sucks. I can’t wait until I’m no longer pregnant. It’s been fun - at times, but it’s quickly lost its novelty.

“Niall wants to know if you still want gummi bears and pickles.”

“Tell him to grab sour gummi worms and those lemon Warhead candies. And Hot Tamales. And puffed Cheetos.”

“Done.” Amber sets her phone aside. “Feeling snacky lately?”

“Chocolate milk!”

She blinks owlishly at me for a long moment, my outburst surprising even myself, then she gives a succinct nod. “I’ll have him add it to the list.”

**__________________**

“Hazza left you a message,” I call out toward the bathroom where Niall is readying for a shower; he pokes his head through the door, frowning slightly.

“Can you listen to it for me?”

“Absotootlyootly.”

Harry’s voicemail is nothing more than a couple of sentences amidst a sea of disjointed humming. The message makes no sense, not in its entirety, but I understand it for what it is. He’s done this a few times to both Niall and myself, calling us and leaving cryptic messages. Song lyrics that he has come up with but won’t use. The voicemails serve as permission for either my husband me to use them if we want to.

I save the message and go to exit out of the application, but the name and date at the bottom of the list catches my eye. _01:23 25 April 2015_. I make sure my husband is in the shower before tapping on the message, switching it to speakerphone. There is a slight crackle, then my voice comes through the speakers - slurred and far too loud.

“Guys, shhh, it’s ringing - oh, wait. Voicemail. Boo. C’mon, Niall, why don’t you answer? It’s me! Oh, well, anyway. I have something really, really, really, really, really important to tell you. If I don’t tell you now, I-I-I, I might explode! Yeah, that’s what will happen! I’ll explode, and it’ll be gross, and then you’ll be sad be-because I’m all exploded.”

Drunk-Me was out of her mind when she left the message; I giggle at the theatrics and put-upon whining, hazy memories of that night floating to the forefront of my mind. The night before I married the most amazing man I could ever have been lucky enough to find. My heart races as I listen to my over-dramatic threats of exploding before the voice coming through the speakers grows more serious, something less nameable.

“Niall. I am, I am so fucking in love with you, I am! You’ve made me so increbidly happy the past three years, and I... i can’t live without you. I can’t.”

Drunk-Me sniffles, and sober-and-very-pregnant me does the same. The longer the voicemail plays, the more I’m overwhelmed with emotions - pride that even drunk, I was able to be so honest; ecstasy that we’ve made it for so long, even with everything life has thrown at us; and drowning in the love and home we’ve created in each other. Drunk-Me got at least one thing right, I suppose. I need Niall as much as I need air. If I didn’t have him, I’d be nothing.

My inebriated marriage proposal and subsequent rambling about my “brothers” is cut off by Natalie’s voice in the background. Her voice fades abruptly, and giggling fills the air. Right. That’s when Delia covered Nat’s mouth so she couldn’t say any more inappropriate things. A thud, cackling, then the message ends.

I stare down at the screen, even though the words have blurred into a mess of black, white, and blue through my tears. I can’t believe that Niall has kept the stupid message for so long. My hands tremble, breath coming out in shaky gusts.

The sound of the shower slows, stops, but I don’t look away from the phone in my hand. Wincing as the baby kicks rather painfully against the bottom of my ribs, I run a hand over my belly and breathe out as steadily as possible. Footsteps slap across the floor toward the door.

Somehow, I manage to press the play button again, and Niall stops in the doorway at the sound of my alcohol-drenched voice.

“You kept it for almost an entire year,” I mumble once the message ends and our room is doused in silence again. “I’m… that voicemail is so damn embarrassing, but you kept it. Why?”

Niall sits on the end of the bed next to me, arm coming up to wrap around my shoulders. I let him pull me into his shower-warm side and breathe in the scent of him that has always comforted me. Even when we weren’t speaking to each other, the memory of his smell alone was enough to keep my fears at bay.

“It makes me smile,” he whispers after a long minute, during which I can almost hear him trying to sort out his thoughts. “It made me smile when I first heard it, and I listen to it whenever I’m in a bad mood or missing you or-or just need the reminder that you’re just as much devoted to me as I am to you.”

“It’s such a dumb message.”

He shakes his head at my weak protest, kisses the top of my head. “Listening to you spilling your guts about how much you love me, asking me to marry you only hours before we got married? Easily the best message you have _ever_ left me. So it may be silly, but I think I’m going to keep that message as long as I can.”

I sigh heavily then pull away. “Well, who am I to stop you, I suppose. I’m gonna go take a shower now. You owe me so much if you took all the hot water.”

He laughs and helps me to my feet. “There’s plenty of hot water left, darling. What’d Harry want, by the way?”

“Listen to your own damn voicemails, Horan.”

Kissing him gently, I move toward the bathroom, shutting the door on his indignant spluttering. I can’t deny, as I strip to just my underwear, that knowing he still has that voicemail, that he listens to it regularly… It makes my worries disappear. It may be embarrassing - no, utterly mortifying - to know that he’s keeping such a vulnerable, drunken voicemail. But it’s also reassuring.

“Ow!”

“Love?”

“I’m okay,” I gasp out, gritting my teeth against the sharp pain. “Just hyperactive baby who’s decided my ribcage is the perfect place for his foot.”

“Come lie down.”

“Niall -”

“Please, Erin, humour me. Our daughter needs you to take care of yourself.”

I roll my eyes but allow him to lead me to the bed. His worry would be adorable if it wasn’t so _constant_. Nevertheless, I don’t argue as he helps me to stretch out on the bed, and he frowns as I settle in.

“That was too easy.” His brows furrow, eyes narrowing, and I grin up at him. “Erin.”

“You’re concerned. Why should I annoy you on top of that? Our son shouldn’t hear us arguing about you being stubborn.”

“ _I’m_ being stubborn? Have you met yourself recently?”

“Well, now, that’s just rude. I think you should sleep with me to make up for it.”

He stares at me, no trace of amusement on his face, then he cracks. Chuckling, he crawls onto the bed and curls around me; his palm presses gently to my belly, and I turn my head to kiss him. My breathing slows the longer I lie there, my eyelids grow heavier. I’m too far gone into the daze between sleep and awake to register Niall tugging the comforter up over me, tucking me in before resuming his post at my side.


	24. Chapter 24

Dozens of photographs litter the floor, spread in a haphazard arc around me, and I rest my elbow on my knee, chin on my palm, as I scan over the pictures. So many snapshots of our lives together, all of them telling our story in quick little frames.

I’d had the idea for the gift the day after I freaked out to Natalie and Amber. They both jumped on board with the plan almost immediately when I told them, along with a few others - Harry, Louis, Niall’s parents, Stefanie. Everyone who has had a part in our lives and love.

No one had tried to convince me this was a horrible idea; in fact, Maura had teared up over a Skype call and praised me for being so creative. It’s a really weird thing to be praised for, honestly, but I’ll take it.

So for the last three days, I’ve been wading through photographs stemming from our first meeting way back in November of 2011. It makes me uncomfortable to see the picture of One Direction and Complete Irrationality, the day we joined up in that restaurant before our tour started. Even in the photograph, I can see how anxious I was, the bundle of nerves that I’d become on the walk. How I avoided looking at anyone directly. I set that particular one aside. It may have been the start of my story with Niall, but it wasn’t a happy enough encounter to make it.

“This better be important,” I grumble as I lift my phone to my ear, and Louis’s laugh echoes down the line.

“Sorry, I wouldn’t interrupt, but I found another few photographs if you need them.”

“Dude, I already have, like, sixty in front of me. Bring ‘em.”

He hangs up after promising to be here soon, and I stretch for the next handful of pictures to go through. As I wait for Louis to arrive, I sort them into three piles: _Use_ , _Discard_ , and _Maybe, so ask for someone else’s opinion_. The ones where we aren’t actually together, either of us out of frame or blurry, automatically go into the rejection stack. The one that Stefanie took during the tour - the first time Niall and I were actually friends, when he was trying to comfort me after my estranged father’s sudden message - that one is a no-brainer. It’s accepted immediately.

A knock sounds on the front door, then Louis lets himself into the house and finds me in the living room.

“Let me guess. Hormones are making you emotional?”

He chuckles quietly when all I do is flip him off and wipe a hand across my damp cheeks. He hands me a small stack of photographs, sitting on the couch while I shuffle through them. The one on the bottom gives me pause, and I frown as I stare at it.

We look so young, Niall and me. Granted, we were. Only nineteen-years-old and already in love. I don’t even know who snapped this picture, but whoever did made sure it was as candid as possible - and when the subjects of your photograph are asleep, there’s nothing more candid than that. And indeed, Niall and I are both wrapped up in the blankets, curled into each other. Completely, blissfully unaware of the world around us.

It must have been taken during the two weeks I spent with him in London after we first started dating. My brows were slightly overplucked, my hair barely reaching the bottom of my shoulder-blades. I trace a finger over the glossy surface of the photograph and sniffle, but there’s no way of stopping the tears.

Louis, thankfully, doesn’t judge me too harshly for being so emotional. He just silently helps me go through the pictures until the Keep pile is tall enough for my project to be successful. I gather up the stack, setting it off to the side, and start scooping up the rejects to put them back in the box. Once that’s done, I sigh and stare down at my belly.

Niall had to get back to the studio today, which is why I’m sat on the floor doing this. It’s the only time I’ve had to pick out the photographs I need without risking him finding out. Or hovering over my shoulder. He’d be frustrated if he saw me on the floor; evidently, having lower back pain means I’m not allowed to sit on anything other than the fluffiest cloud in existence.

“How’s things?” Louis asks as he carefully pulls me to my feet, and I grimace.

“They’re good. I, uh, I’m kind of annoyed that Niall hasn’t brought up me not telling him about the threats.”

“Oh, yeah.” He winces in sympathy. “That was a stupid move, Erin.”

I sigh, rub a hand against the bottom of my spine, and Louis follows me to the kitchen. “I know, I know, so everyone keeps telling me. But I thought I did the right thing, y’know? And now I’m just, I’m super-anxious because he hasn’t said anything about it, but I know he was angry that I hid it from him. It’s been _months_. Why hasn’t he said anything?”

“Because you’re pregnant, and he doesn’t want to stress you out.”

“Him staying quiet about it is stressing me out.”

“Have you talked to him about this?”

“Now _that_ would be a stupid move, picking a fight with my husband because he’s trying to make my life easier by not telling me how angry he is with me.” Blowing out a slow breath, I shake my head and rummage through the cupboards - as expected, I’m unsuccessful in my attempts to find coffee grounds. “Bastard. Wanna run to Starbucks with me?”

Louis lets out a bark of laughter and immediately holds up his hands. “No. Absolutely not. I love you, Erin, but I’m more afraid of Niall kicking my arse all the way ‘round the world if I enable your caffeine intake.”

“Wimp. Fine. Hey, excuse me! Those are _my_ Warheads.”

He pops a candy into his mouth, his smug smirk twisting into a grimace within seconds. I grumble under my breath and steal the bag from his hands. The tightness in my chest has eased slightly now that I’ve put words to what I’ve been feeling, but I still can’t quite let go of the last bit of anxiety. Maybe Lou is right. I might just have to actually _talk_ to Niall about this.

“Who knew marriage took effective communication in order to work,” I mutter, and Louis spits the sour candy into the bin before turning to face me. I roll my eyes at his deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression. “Don’t worry, I’m not asking you.”

“I’m wounded! Words hurt, Erin.”

“Love you, Moo.”

“Yeah, it shows. Want me to hang around until he gets back?”

“Nah, I’m probably just gonna watch something or write. Uh, there _is_ something you can do if you want to.”

Once Louis agrees, I find the business card for the mom-and-pop printing shop and slide all the photographs into a large envelope. He hugs me as tightly as he can, then he’s gone with a promise that the pictures will be at their destination as fast as he can drive. His footsteps fade, the door closes with a click. The quiet settles over the house once more, and I exhale slowly.

Less than ten weeks to go, and I’m terrified. The nightmares have grown in intensity and frequency. Everything is set up - the baby’s bed and changing table are put together, the chest of drawers stocked with teeny onesies and the smallest socks I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and the hospital bag has been packed for almost a month. Everything is ready. Except me.

The closer I get to my due date, the less prepared I feel. How can I do this? I’m not sure I can. Granted, I don’t have much of a choice; the baby is going to come whether I think it’s time or not. It would just be nice to blink and have the entire ordeal over with - quick and painless.

Once I’ve stashed the box of photographs by the foot of the stairs, I head back to the couch where I left my phone. I’d been in the middle of reading Jonna’s weekly email last night when I fell asleep, and I still haven’t gotten around to finishing it. I lean forward enough to get my water off the coffee-table and, sipping at it, reread the message from the beginning.

> _Sis,_
> 
> _I asked Mom if I could come visit you and Dad soon, but she’s still saying no. She won’t give me a reason why, though, and I know Riley wants to come, too. I don’t understand. I just wanna see you again. Can you make her change her mind???_
> 
> _Anyway. Mason is gone. He’s out. I know, he seemed so amazing and sweet. Turns out he only wanted to be my boyfriend because Grace wouldn’t be his girlfriend. I found out from Kirsten and dumped him. Being a second choice is bad, right? And I’m like noooo wayyyy am I going to be anyone’s second choice._
> 
> _Anyway! Astronomy camp is still fun! We’ve been mapping the constellations and April THINKS she found a new one but everyone knows she just saw Cassiopeia. We tried seeing what she did, but we couldn’t so she was wrong. She isn’t talking to any of us now._
> 
> _Hope you and the baby are doing okay. Do you know what it’s gonna be? Will you pleeeeeease send me a new belly pic?? Tell your hubby I said hi and I miss him. I miss you, too. Okay Mina is getting mad that I’m still on the computer so I better go (you’d think by now they would know not to make 15 teenagers share one crappy laptop!!!)_
> 
> _Love you!!!!!!_

I snort inelegantly and shake my head, but I remember clearly how it was when I was sixteen. Sure, I wasn’t quite as interested in boys when I was Jonna’s age - most of my time was spent with the band and preparing for Battle of the Bands, so boys took a backseat in the grand scheme of things. But still, I definitely was attracted to boys and occasionally fell into the trap of being distracted by them.

As much as I am loathe to admit it, Leanne has the right idea: Having Jonna here is a terrible idea. My marriage - and pregnancy - has drawn more attention from paparazzi and fans alike, and putting Jonna in the limelight right now isn’t an acceptable risk just so I can see my sister. I make a mental note to video-chat her when she gets back home before starting to type my reply.

I know me agreeing with her mother is going to irritate Jonna, so I promise her that as soon as the baby is born and we’re cleared for travel, we will definitely come to visit. I attach my most recent belly-selfie and send my love off with the email, then set my phone aside. Staring blankly at the wall across the room, I let my mind wander over the last few years.

Having a younger sister and brother was never in the plans for me. Meeting them had been awkward; my father had gone with me, and we’d sat in the roadside diner for almost an hour before the other three showed up. Jonna had immediately launched into a long-winded introduction, which turned into how she was a fan of Complete Irrationality even before she found out she was related to me.

Riley stayed quiet, blending into the background as he fidgeted with his straw, and I understood the desire to remain almost anonymous. I often felt that way. So I didn’t try to engage him in conversation, just smiled at him then focused on everyone else.

It took a while for me to be comfortable with the idea of having siblings, especially ones created because my father cheated on my mother and subsequently abandoned us for Leanne. But Natalie and Amber had made me realise I was basically punishing Riley and Jonna for my father’s indiscretions; they were as innocent in the entire situation as I’d been, and all they wanted was to know their family.

Once I came to terms with it and accepted it as the truth, I was just as enthusiastic about getting to know them, and our bond has only grown stronger since. Riley doesn’t reach out to me very often, and when he does, his emails are all about Minecraft and Pokemon. I expect nothing more, considering he’s only ten.

I let out a slow breath when the baby gives a rough kick to my ribs, running a hand over my belly. “Let’s not be a butthead today, kiddo. Mummy needs a break.”

My head falls to rest on the back of the couch, and I close my eyes. Ten more weeks. That’s all. Just ten more weeks, and I’ll be able to get back to not sharing my body with a growing baby.


	25. Chapter 25

Everything is wet - the ground, the sky, _me_ \- by the time I walk through the doors of the studio. Thunder rumbles overhead, the sky letting loose a torrent of rain that smacks against the windows. Lisa grimaces when she sees me, hands me a roll of paper towels, and I grumble as I dry my face off. Once I’m finished, I toss the towel into the recycle bin and carefully lower myself into a free chair.

“Where are the others?”

“Owen and Dawn are arguing over whether the hook in _Only a Fool_ works or not.”

“Of course it doesn’t.” Sighing, I shift awkwardly. “What’s on the agenda, then?”

She shrugs and finishes off her coffee. “Dave says there isn’t much left to do unless we add things. Otherwise, we should be out of here by three at the latest.”

“Good. I have errands to run today.”

“How’s the gift coming?”

I blow out a breath when the baby twists and turns, a rough kick landing to my ribs. “It’s done, I just gotta pick it up when we’re done here.”

Before Lisa can say anything, the rest of the band files into the room. Dawn ducks down to press a kiss to my damp hair, and Zach immediately goes to the fridge to grab out two bottles of water. I barely manage to not roll my eyes - the closer I get to my due date, the more fussy he is about making sure I take care of myself.

“Did Niall put you up to this?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Of course not. Just want my niece to be safe and happy in there.”

“Nephew,” Dawn and I correct at the same time, and he sticks his tongue out at us.

“I have an idea,” Owen starts, rummaging through a box on the counter until he comes up with a dry-erase marker and a magnetic whiteboard. He doesn’t say anything else, just writes quickly then hangs the board on the fridge.

“What the heck, are you gambling on when I’m pushing this baby out?” I giggle anyway. “I say boy, tenth of June, hm… five-thirty in the afternoon.”

The others join in without hesitation, each calling out their bets while Owen marks them down. When he’s finished, I grab my phone to send a text to Natalie, Amber, and Niall; their responses come in almost immediately, even Niall’s, so I push myself to my feet and cross the room.

> **Boy**  
>  Owen - 8th June, 4:32 am  
> Erin - 10th June, 5:30 pm  
> Dawn - 12th June, 3:30 am  
> Natalie - 10th June, 4 pm
> 
> **Girl**  
>  Zach - 8th June, 12 pm  
> Lisa - 9th June, 1 am  
> Amber - 9th June, 4:03 am  
> Niall - 8th June, 9:13 am

I take a quick picture of the board, laughing the entire time, because of course my group of friends and loved ones would take bets on this baby. It honestly should not have surprised me as much as it did.

“Wait, what do we get if our bet is right?” Zach asks through a mouthful of mini-pretzels, and Lisa covers his mouth.

“We’ll figure it out by the time the day comes,” Owen promises. “We’ve got two months.”

“Are you guys ready, or should we just write today off?”

I wince, exchange a look with Dawn, then face the man in the doorway. “Shit, sorry, Davey. We’re on our way.”

The sound engineer nods and, as he turns to leave: “Girl, tenth of June, at three pm.”

“And Dave broke the tie!” cheers Zach as Owen reluctantly adds Dave’s guess to the board.

The next three days go by far too slowly for my liking. All I’ve wanted is the twenty-fifth to finally get here, so I can give my husband his present, to see his reaction to a collection of my favourite memories. To show him just how much every second spent with him means to me.

But finally, after what feels like years, our anniversary arrives, and I’m awake before the sun even fully rises. An unsettling nervousness fills me, prevents me from sleeping peacefully. Or maybe it’s the unborn, tiny future-human doing gymnastics on my organs at five in the morning.

Either way, I find myself in the kitchen, sat at the table as a hazy golden light creeps slowly through the room. _What if he doesn’t like the book?_ , a small voice whispers in the back of my mind. Maybe I should have gotten Niall something else, just in case. It’s too late now, though. So I can only cross my fingers and hope that he thinks the book is a sufficient gift to celebrate a whole year of being married.

So much has changed over the last twelve months. We’d expected to spend quite a while as husband and wife, just the two of us trying to juggle a marriage with our careers. Life - and recklessness - had thrown a curveball in those plans: Giving into our impatience meant forgetting a condom in a dressing room of some Dallas venue and again at the hotel, and now, here we are, a little over eight weeks away from being parents. I’m just thankful that this is happening with _him_ , not someone else.

I can’t imagine what it would be like if any other man was the father of my soon-to-arrive child.

Niall shuffles into the room long after my tea has grown cold. He blinks, bleary-eyed and yawning, in the sunlight that streams through the windows, then makes his way to sit beside me. I stare at him, at the face I’ve known for so long and will never not be affected by. I’ve watched him grow, change from the eighteen-year-old who broke my heart into the twenty-one-year-old who healed all the damage I’d endured. And every step of the way, I have loved him more fiercely than I could ever have envisioned loving anyone.

“Happy anniversary,” I whisper, stretching to kiss his cheek, and a slow smile spreads across his lips. “Can’t believe it’s been an full year since you swore to love me forever.”

“Through thick and thin, love. Happy anniversary.”

“I was thinking that since we’ve both taken today off from our hectic schedules, we could go for a walk through the park.”

“Sounds great to me. Lunch at the cafe?”

“Gods, you can read my mind so well.”

He laughs quietly and presses his lips to my forehead. “I just know you really like the potato soup.”

He has a point. The cafe’s soup is by far the best I’ve ever had, and it has been one of the only things I can eat without upsetting my belly. Plus, it provides me with the vegetables I can no longer stomach on their own. This pregnancy has wreaked havoc on my tastebuds. The only upside is I’ve eaten regularly, far more than before the positive sign showed up on that test.

Of course Bryan demands that he join us on our stroll through the park, though he stays a few feet behind us. Niall and I know he’s there, keeping us safe, but it’s easy to ignore his presence and focus on us. The task is made even easier by the surprising lack of fans encroaching on our bubble.

Sure, I can see them taking pictures and sending them to everyone in their contact books, but they give us space. They don’t swarm us with demands for photos, autographs, our attention. So I decide to be nice, waving and smiling and flashing a peace sign every now and then.

“You realise you’re encouraging their voyeurism, right?” Niall chuckles even as he waves at a teenager ten feet away.

“Gotta give ‘em something to say ‘thanks for leaving us the fuck alone’.”

“So considerate of you.”

“Look, I left the house fully anticipating being ambushed by people. This is the first time I’ve been out and about like this since the media shit-storm. I’m gonna be nice to the people being nice to me.”

Niall frowns, lacing our fingers together, and watches the teen scurry off once she’s gotten the pictures she wanted. “Yeah, I expected the same. This is… unexpected.”

“Maybe not so inexplicable, though,” I sigh as I glance back at Bryan. “He’s got his murder-face on.”

Niall’s laughter rings out, clear and bright, and I snuggle into his side as much as I’m able. Bryan’s ‘I’ll kick your butt without remorse if you touch my people’ face aside, this has been an amazing time. The warm sunshine and fresh air have done wonders to uplift my mood. The fact that it’s my anniversary with the best man I’ve ever known hadn’t been able to dispel the misery of being stuck indoors all day.

Even when I’d gone to Amber’s or Natalie’s, I spent the hours inside, away from prying eyes; having another bout of death threats - which have finally tapered off - hadn’t been appealing. The cafe has been the only public place I’ve felt comfortable going to, since the owner has been incredibly strict about patrons’ behaviour, and will put a stop to anyone trying to pester me. So walking around, outside with nature surrounding me everywhere I turn, has been a blessing. Even with all the camera-phones pointing in our direction.

Birds twitter from above, bumblebees float lazily around the flowers along the path, and a squirrel chases its friend up and down and around the trunks of the trees. Nearby restaurants send aromas of food to waft over the area, a myriad of scents from different cultures, and even the sounds of traffic seem muted here in the serenity. It’s perfect.

The cafe is busier than usual when Niall and I step in through the doors. The host recognises us immediately, giving us a harried smile and gesturing toward the dining area. My husband tightens his grip on my hand, his other coming up to rest on my lower back, and I lead him to the two-top near the back. Bryan sits in a chair at the next table over and pretends as if he’s not there; his sheer size makes it impossible for anyone to not see him, but I appreciate the efforts nonetheless.

“Hey, you guys are back!” Denny grins brightly when he comes to a stop to my right. “Oh, my gosh, you look amazing, both of you. Lemme guess - potato soup?”

“How much coffee have you had today?” I ask instead of answering his question, giggling when his face screws up as he thinks.

“Only two.”

“Pots?”

“That’s for me to know and you to never judge me for.”

“Okay, well, drink some more for me please. But yes, potato soup.”

Denny nods but doesn’t write it down - why would he, when it’s the same thing I’ve gotten the last fifteen times I’ve come here. Once he’s gotten Niall and Bryan’s orders, he bounds away, and I meet Niall’s eye across the table. Neither of us need to speak to know we’re thinking the same thing: In another life, Denny would have been an amazing friend. As it is, he remains professional, never tries to cross the boundaries, so we follow his lead.

I just wish he’d sneak me some of the coffee he’s been drinking, because I need the pick-me-up right now.

“Thanks so much, Bryan. I hate that you had to follow us around like a shadow.”

Bryan shrugs and kisses my hair. “I’ve said it before, kid. I like you for some reason, so I’m gonna protect you. Oh, before I forget, Gracie wants to know if you guys would want to come for dinner sometime soon.”

“I’ll talk it over with Niall and give her a call. Give her my love.”

Bryan leaves with one last smile, and I turn toward the living room. My body aches, an uncomfortable stretching in my hips, but I manage to make it to the couch before collapsing into the cushions. Niall’s gift sits on the coffee-table, the bright yellow paper interrupted with tiny polka dots. The man himself is nowhere to be found. Frowning, I call his name, only to be met with silence. I shout again then push to my feet when he still doesn’t respond.

“Sit back down,” he orders gently as he enters the room. “I just had to go get your present.”

“You first.”

“Are you sure?”

At my flat glare, he concedes, laughing softly, and sets my gift next to me. My heart races while I watch him reach for the wrapped book, his finger sliding under the paper and carefully peeling it up. This is the moment of truth, and I feel like throwing up. I bite my lip against the rush of buzzing under my skin. If he doesn’t like this, I… have no idea what I’m going to do. _Really should have had a back-up plan._

He stares down at the heart-embossed cover, brows furrowed, then glances up at me. “What’s this?”

“Well, open the book and find out.”

My fears are, as usual, for nothing: He flips to the first page, and his reaction is nothing short of beautiful. A gasp bursts from him at the photograph that Stefanie took of us, a smile graces his lips, and he continues turning the pages. Under every photo is a caption of all the sweet things he’s ever said to me, printed in my handwriting. The entire thing is a timeline of our relationship, the love we’ve found and nurtured during our years together. It’s an explanation of just how much I need him.

It isn’t until he reaches the final image that the tears slip from his eyes, though I’ve been crying since he first opened the book. The sonogram - the very first one that proved I was pregnant - is there. In a childlike font underneath the picture is the phrase _”I can’t wait to meet you, Daddy!”_. He reaches for my hand and squeezes tightly. His breaths are tremulous, shaky, even as he turns to the last page.

_No matter where you go, no matter how far or what time it is, please: Come home to me._

“I’ll always come home to you,” he promises before he kisses me hard enough to steal my breath.


	26. Chapter 26

I burrow deeper into my blankets and turn the channel. Again. Even Mel and Sue’s delightful banter can’t keep me entertained for more than five minutes, which is awful - _GBBO_ has been my go-to show ever since I found out about it.

The house is eerily silent, even with the noise from the television. For once, the spacious quality - the very thing I loved so much - is… imposing. The twenty-sixth of April brought about our lives’ regularly-scheduled programming. Niall went back into the studio, and I went back to boredom and doctor appointments.

What’s worse is Doctor Porter put his foot down on my caffeine intake. No more coffee. At all. I’d tried arguing, but he refused to budge. If I didn’t trust him so much, I would have gone to someone else for a second opinion.

Now here I am, seven weeks away from my due date, and I can’t rely on anyone to sneak me any of the iced coffee I loved. They’re all a bunch of cowards, hiding behind their fear of Niall’s wrath. No amount of begging and promising he’d never find out has convinced them to go against him. Not even Amber.

Turning off the television, I let out a slow breath and struggle to my feet. The doctor wants me to take it easy, but I’m _bored_. Lying around and doing nothing have never been easy accomplishments for me.

Even after tours, I’d only ever needed a day or two to recuperate, then I was off finding things to keep me busy. Anything that might carry a risk of slight overexertion has been banned. And it sucks.

“Good morning!”

Sighing, I plaster a fake smile onto my face and turn to greet the woman in the foyer. “Morning, Adrienne.”

“Why aren’t you relaxing?” she frowns, hands on her hips. “Do I need to tell Mister Horan you aren’t listening to your doctor?”

“No, no. Don’t do that. Please, god, no, don’t do that. I’m just getting a glass of water then heading upstairs to play guitar or something.”

“Go on, Mrs Horan. I’ll bring you a drink when I come up to clean.”

“Adrienne-”

“Don’t you ‘Adrienne’ me, ma’am. I’m only making sure your husband doesn’t throttle us all.”

“It isn’t your job to keep me hydrated,” I protest weakly, but the middle-aged mother of four doesn’t back down. “Fine. I’m going. But note that I’m doing this completely against my will.”

“But you’re doing it, and that’s what matters. Richard, please help Mrs Horan up the stairs while I grab the supplies.”

“Yes, ma’am. Come along, Mrs Horan.”

I groan even as he grasps my elbow carefully. “I’m not an invalid. I can make it up a flight of stairs, I promise.”

“I know, ma’am.”

“But?”

“But I have my orders,” he says with a smile of apology before continuing in an undertone, “And Adrienne is terrifying.”

Richard has a point. So I acquiesce as gracefully as possible, though I grumble to myself all the way up to the music room. He waits until I’m sat on the piano bench, then he’s gone. I stare at the empty doorway for a long moment then set my phone next to me, frowning at the saddening lack of notifications.

I knew Niall wouldn’t be able to text often, but I still half-expected the occasional check-in. Natalie is too busy with Levi and Goose and her own life. I understand it, so I can’t really be upset with her.

Honestly, I can’t be angry with anybody for not texting or calling regularly. My existence isn’t the centre of the universe, and to expect it to be is selfish and unreasonable. However, I think it’s quite reasonable to want _some_ sort of acknowledgement that my friends and family know I’m alive.

Before I can drown too much in those maudlin thoughts, I flip my phone so it rests facedown. If I can’t see the screen, I can’t dwell on the fact that the screen stays dark… right?

“You could be my silver springs,” I sing quietly, tapping on the keys. “Blue, green, colours flashing. I would be -”

“Uh-oh. You’re playing Fleetwood Mac. What’s wrong, honey?”

I shrug as Adrienne sets a glass on the piano-top. “Nothing. Just… lonely a bit, I guess.”

“I know your husband only hired us to clean, so take my advice with a grain of salt. But maybe you should tell your friends how you feel.”

“I don’t wanna be the pregnant chick who guilts people into visiting.”

“It isn’t guilting them. It’s reminding them that you’re a human being who needs social interaction. To feel important.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Were you this stubborn before, or is it a side effect of being pregnant?” she laughs, patting my shoulder. “I’d stay and hang out, but we have two more houses to hit today. You gonna be okay?”

She doesn’t look convinced by my assurances that I’ll be fine, but she also doesn’t argue. Maybe she feels it would be too far out of line. Though Adrienne and her crew were employed to clean the house during the final stretch of my pregnancy, they all have become familiar enough that I could consider them friends - that I _do_ consider them friends.

Once she’s left to do her job, I turn back to the piano. More _Silver Springs_ is out of the question - Adrienne had figured out quickly that it’s my favourite “I’m mopey and hormonal” song of choice. So instead, my fingers trail over the keys until they find the correct one; the opening notes to _They Don’t Know About Us_ fill the room, and I focus on the melody and lyrics instead of the loneliness.

**[-_-_-_-]**

Niall stops in the doorway, and I glance up from where I’m folding all the freshly-washed onesies that Natalie bought and had shipped to our house. Why she thought the baby would need thirty outfits about how badass their aunt it, I’ll never know. But, as usual, I never let the opportunity for friendly revenge slip by.

My payback should be at her place by the end of the week. I can only hope she doesn’t keep the very loud, very annoying kiddie drumset from Levi, considering I’d chosen it specifically for all the noise complaints in the reviews.

I set aside the onesie in my hand and reach for another. A huff of laughter escapes when I read it: _My aunt came here to party and kick ass, and the party’s just ended_. Eventually, Niall clears his throat.

“Uh, love, is… is there something wrong?”

My brows draw together, and I frown at him even as I continue folding. “No, why?”

 _I hate myself for loving you, can’t break free from the things that you do. I wanna walk, but I run back to you. That’s why I hate myself for loving you_ , Joan Jett sings from my phone’s speakers, and Niall gives me a pointed look.

I bite down my lower lip, stretching toward my phone even though my belly makes it almost impossible. The guitar and drums fall silent as soon as I press the pause button, and my giggle breaks free at how the entire situation must look to my husband. He slowly crosses the room to sit on the end of the bed. I pout when I realise he’s too far away to kiss.

“ _Babe_ ,” I whine, making grabby hands toward him. He rolls his eyes but scoots closer nonetheless. Snuggling into his side, I stare up at him. “I promise we’re fine. There’s nothing wrong. This is literally just Baby and me wanting to rock out, and Pandora decided Joan fit the bill. Which, let’s be honest, she does.”

“Okay. As long as we’re okay.”

“Of course we are.”

“What is it?” he asks after I sigh heavily.

“Why does Nat hate me so much? I mean, I can’t think of any other reason why she’d send _this freaking many_ onesies for a baby who’s a, not even here yet, and b, just going to outgrow them within a couple of months.”

He laughs quietly and kisses my hair. “It’s because she loves you but shows her love in really, really weird ways.”

“Well, she can get her ass over here to wash, fold, and put away all of these herself.”

“Why don’t you relax or something? I can finish up in here.”

“You’re amazing, babe. Really, you are. But you’ve been on the move since six this morning. You’re the one who needs to relax.”

“I think I can handle doing the laundry for the baby I helped create.”

“Actually, if I remember correctly, I’m the one who did all the work. You just laid back and let me have my wicked way with you.” I wince at a rough kick to my ribs, glaring down at my belly. “That was rude, and I don’t appreciate it.”

Niall snorts before breaking down into laughter. I swat at his arm in retaliation, but all it does is serve to make him laugh even more. Muttering about how he and his child need to stop conspiring against me, I manage to climb clumsily off the bed and waddle toward the bathroom. I cannot wait until my bladder is no longer being used as a damn trampoline for an unborn kid the size of a spaghetti squash.

Niall waits outside the door while I do what I need to do. Once I’ve opened the door again, his hands fall to gently rest on the swell of my belly. His kiss is soft, tender, so full of love. I can’t help but smile against his lips, all irritation fading away. When he pulls back, he immediately starts leading me toward the living room.

There is no denying how thankful I am to be sitting by the time we get downstairs, no matter how much I protested on the walk. There’s only about five weeks left until I’m meant to become my own body again, and I’m counting down the days. Not just because I’m tired of being tired all the time or having so much strain put onto my body. But because I want to meet the baby I never knew I wanted.

Seeing Nat be a mom has only made me wish for time to go faster. She’s brought Levi around plenty of times so I could practice changing the diaper of a living, breathing, squirming baby. However, I still hold a small amount of frustration that he peed on me the first time. Niall, wonderful husband that he is, refrains from bringing it up too often.

“Only a few more weeks,” I whisper as I run my hand along my belly, the uncomfortable stretching from inside paling in comparison to the awe-inspiring wonder of teeny, tiny feet pressing against my palm.


	27. Chapter 27

I frown, setting my laptop aside, and drop backwards against the pillows behind me. There is only so much Reddit and tumblr a bed-ridden person can scroll through before boredom becomes overwhelming, and I’ve long since reached that point.

I have to admit that it’s a good thing that no one has found my tumblr username, even when I think my posts make it really obvious exactly who is behind the screen. I can basically shit-post without anyone calling for my head. Plus, it’s… _interesting_ to see people’s theories about the secret relationships of the guys.

Scary, often, but interesting nonetheless.

Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I bring up my Instagram app. I’ve never done this before, but now is as good a time as any to start. After all, it isn’t like Doctor Porter or my husband will let me do anything else. It takes a few tries, but then the Live is going. I stare blankly at the camera.

“Well, this was dumb,” I mutter, thumb hovering over the button to end it, but comments start coming in.

> **1d4eva**   
>  _OMG ERIN!!!! DOING A LIVE??! AMAZING! HIIIII!_
> 
> **callie_styles**   
>  _not dumb oh my goshhhh can’t believe we get to see ur face!_
> 
> **phoenixx**   
>  _Wow!! I never expected you to do a Live! How are you?!_

“Yes! You do get to see my face! Human interaction, holy shit!” I laugh and wiggle my fingers in greeting as the viewer count spikes. “More humans! Yay. So, as you may or may not be able to tell, I am incredibly pregnant and bored, so here I am. Um, I’ve never done of these before. Please be kind to me. Any questions?”

> **reallyNatReed**   
>  _I have a question! How many onesies do you have for the baby?_
> 
> **prismsoflove**   
>  _where is niall?? we want to see him too!_
> 
> **callie_styles**   
>  _maybe we should just enjoy seeing erin…?_
> 
> **anna.c**   
>  _Niall is cute and all, but this is Erin’s live. Not his!_

I snort in amusement at the comments that pour in, echoing the sentiment. “Thanks, lovelies. Niall is… maybe downstairs cooking lunch? I don’t know for sure, considering I’m not allowed out of bed at the moment. Oh, are you _kidding_ me? The next person who asks if Larry is real will be blocked instantly. Don’t bring that shit to my Live.

“Anyway. Nat, you are not funny. If you send another freakin’ package to our house full of onesies, I will actually cry. There’s so many, why do you hate me this much?”

It’s hard to keep up with the messages and questions; a fraction of them revolve around the baby, if we know what the gender is, when am I due. I avoid giving definitive answers to those. Beyond our decision to not know beforehand, none of this is anybody else’s business.

A majority of the comments, though, ask after my own health and well-being. Tears burn at my eyes as I read them. The hormones have gotten worse the closer I get to the end of this pregnancy, and this is the first bit of social interaction outside of Niall, our cleaning crew, and Amber that I’ve had in a while. Of course I’d be emotional.

“Okay, so Nat might know what I mean, but I feel like a turkey right now. Y’know how, like, Thanksgiving turkeys come with that pop-up thingy that lets you know where they’re done cooking? Yeah, that’s my belly right now. Look at this damn bellybutton!”

I angle the phone so the camera catches me poking at my bellybutton - which has, indeed, become an outtie instead of the innie it’s always been. Sighing, I turn the camera back to my face and skim over the comments that have come in. My face grows hot the more I read.

Every single one of them compliments me in some way. About thirty of them are nothing but heart-eye emojis and exclamation points. Clearing my throat wetly, I thank the viewers for their kind words. After the death threats I received in the beginning - after my marriage and then the announcement that I was pregnant - I certainly didn’t expect so much love right now.

> **larryluver**   
>  _blink if larry is real!!!_
> 
> **ziamhorlinson**   
>  _Is your pregnancy the reason 1D broke up???_

“And you two are blocked,” I sing-song, smiling when phoenixx and callie are amongst the comments calling them out.

I blow out a breath at the twinge in my hips and focus on talking about the album, how thrilled I am that it’s in its final stages before release. Dozens of people ask if there’s going to be a tour, so I make sure to reassure them there will be. Just… not immediately. Thankfully, everyone seems to be understanding.

Someone asks what my weirdest craving has been, and I can’t help but laugh at the question. Puke-face emojis scroll across the bottom of my screen as I tell them exactly what it was: vanilla ice cream mixed with melted peanut butter, caramel sauce, and diced pickles. I have to agree with their assessment - looking back now, it’s an absolutely disgusting combination that belongs in the bowels of Hell.

> **reallyNatReed**   
>  _That face never says anything good. What are you planning now, Casper???_

“Who wants to join me on a lovely little something I call ‘hubby hunting’?”

Before anyone can reply, I set my phone down on the bed and struggle to the edge of the mattress. It’s harder than I thought it would be; my belly abides by the rules of gravity, the weight and position providing ample pushback. I’ve just gotten my feet on the floor when someone clears their throat from the doorway.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I grin brightly, feigning innocence, but Niall isn’t convinced. As I knew he wouldn’t be. “I, uh, was just going to the other room. Oh, don’t look at me like that. I was gonna play some music for my lovely friends who have joined me for this impromptu Live. Wait, did - did Nat fucking _tattle_ on me?”

“She might have sent a text saying you were disobeying your doctor’s orders.”

“Damn you, Natalie Reed. Okay, well, now that you’re here, help?”

Niall hesitates for a moment then he rolls his eyes. His hands are warm, strong, around mine as he hefts me to my feet, and I steal a kiss while I have the chance. Without an audience. Just us.

The hint of irritation on his face disappears, replaced with my favourite smile of his. He’s even nice enough to grab my phone so I don’t have to try; he waves shortly at the viewers, says a quick hello, then passes it to me.

“Sorry, darlings, being a beached whale tends to make moving difficult. But I’m on my way to my beautiful guitars, so not much longer to wait. Hey! Everybody, say hi to Amber who has just joined us except she’s supposed to be working.”

> **bambamber**   
>  _I AM working (a job that I just got so I’m not even supposed to be on my phone!), but Nat said you were getting out of bed when you weren’t supposed to so I came on here to scold you._

I narrow my eyes then cut my gaze to my husband. “Oh. My. Gods. Do you three have a group chat that I’m not in?”

“That information is between Nat, Amber, Harry, Liam, Louis, Bryan, my ma, and myself,” Niall replies breezily, laughing at my offended expression even as he helps me into the armchair. “Here ya go. Please call for me if you need anything else, okay? No more trying to get around on your own.”

“I’m pregnant, not _dying_ ,” I protest, though it’s weak; even I have to concede I can’t move as easily as I could before.

Niall stares at me without speaking until I finally capitulate with as much grace as I possibly can. Pouting, I lean my phone against the window so that I’m fully in view, and Niall leans down to press a gentle kiss to my lips - something that stuns me into silence.

He knows I’m broadcasting live to my followers, and he’s still kissing me? The mischievous gleam in his eyes tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing. He thinks I’ll become distracted by the comments and not have the urge to move from my spot for a while.

Unfortunately for him, I’m far more stubborn than he gives me credit for. It takes a lot more than a simple kiss to dissuade me from whatever I set my mind to. I do play Doris for a while, just like I said I would, absentmindedly strumming the strings while I wait. _That’s right, babe, I’m lulling you into a sense of false security._

It isn’t until callie_styles asks if the tune I’m playing is on my album that I realise it’s the one Niall played for me a few weeks ago. The one no one else has heard before but is one of my favourites, break-up vibe and all. My fingers pick at a different progression, and I hope I’ve not ruined the surprise of _Flicker_ for whenever he releases his own record.

“Not this one, Callie, but uh, maybe the next one. Okay, we’re gonna try this again. I swear, Natalie and Amber, if either of you tattle on me, you will never, ever see this baby. ‘Kay?”

Almost instantly, the lighthearted comments turn less so, in defence of my best friends’ honour. Some viewers say it respectfully, while others threaten to ‘cancel me’ - whatever that means. But nearly all of the messages call me out for being rude and heartless.

> **reallyNatReed**   
>  _Yooooo she’s kidding! I know it, Amber knows it, Erin knows it. Chillllll._
> 
> **bambamber**   
>  _You all are great and thanks for having our backs, but back off Erin._

“Yes. Exactly. I’m joking. This is how we are, I promise. Besides, if I never let them see the baby, how else would I get time to have sex with my husband? Please, let me be mean to my best friends without jumping down my throat.” I put my finger to my lips, winking conspiratorially, then tiptoe out of the room. “Be vewy, vewy quiet. We’re hunting husbands!”

Three minutes later, I’m only halfway down the stairs, but I figure it’s good enough. I had to repeatedly stop and catch my breath, or my hyperventilating would have caught Niall’s attention. And that would just ruin my plans.

He’s stretched out on the couch, his attention firmly on the television. He has one hand tucked behind his head, the other tapping against his thigh; the fact that he’s shirtless is enough to make me hesitate. I’m not entirely sure of how he will reacts if he finds me recording him - I know how he’ll react if he finds I’ve disregarded anything he and my doctor have said.

I decide to deal with that later, flipping the camera around so everyone can see him.

“As you can see,” I whisper dramatically, “we’ve stumbled upon a father-to-be in his natural habitat. With golf on the telly, he is calm, but don’t let the serenity fool you. He can turn loud the instant his football team isn’t doing well. He - oh, shit, I do believe we’ve been caught out. Heyyy, babe.”

Niall frowns and mutes the television. My heart clenches in my chest, skin rippling with heat and cold; the disappointment on his face hurts to see. I force a smile then turn my attention back to the livestream.

“And evidently, pregnant wives who don’t listen to their doctors can upset the wild husband. So with that, thanks for watching this Live, I’m really sorry to cut this short. It was fun. Love you all, bye!”

I end the stream and blow out a breath as I lock the screen. Niall’s expression hasn’t changed. My stomach churns violently, and I open my mouth to say something - _any_ thing - but nothing comes. He lets out a heavy sigh and slowly approaches.

“Why do you insist on being stubborn?”

I swallow, shrugging. “I just… I wanted to have some fun with the fans.”

“I get that, but it isn’t okay that you’ve done it at the expense of your health. Doctor Porter wouldn’t have told you to take it easy just to be a jerk. He told you to take it easy because you were overdoing it, you were putting your body at risk.” Niall sighs. “What can I do to make you see that while I understand how restless you’re feeling, it’s more important to me that you listen?”

“I’m sorry.”

His hands cradle my face, his eyes searching mine. He shakes his head after a moment and wraps me in his arms.

“You’re already down here, so I suppose you can watch some golf with me.”

“Oh, yay. Golf. Much fun.”

“Don’t quote the doge meme at me,” he laughs, leading me to the sofa. “This is your punishment for disobeying orders.”

“I’ll never do it again.”

“Too late, petal.”

As much as I find it utterly boring to watch people hit a small white ball toward a hole in the ground, I can’t find it in me to complain - not when my antics didn’t cause any conflict. And especially not when my husband is massaging the ache from my swollen ankles and feet.


	28. Chapter 28

**To: Baby Daddy**   
_Since you won’t let me do ANYTHING, can you please bring me a glass of water? I’d get it myself, but I’m not allowed to._

“I am not having conversations via text messages. And don’t you dare respond in a text.”

I groan and drop my phone to my lap. “I’m annoyed with you.”

Niall shakes his head as he exits the bathroom, climbing onto the bed to sit beside me. Contrary to my words, I immediately lean into his side. I know my frustration isn’t really warranted - at least not to the point of taking it out on him - but being confined to bed for hours upon hours _sucks_.

“Really?” He picks up my phone and laughs. “’Baby Daddy’? When did you change it?”

“A few days ago when you yelled at me for doing laundry.”

“You shouldn’t have been doing laundry. And I didn’t _yell_ at you.”

“Oh, right.” I snort and twist the band around his finger. “You just freaked out and threatened to have Bryan carry me to bed.”

“I guess I overreacted a bit, didn’t I?” he murmurs sheepishly after a long pause, and I pat his stomach.

“Don’t worry. I’d think it was cute if I wasn’t so miserable.”

“Only a couple more weeks to go.”

“Couple weeks too long. I’m ready for this to be _over_.”

Niall kisses the pout from my lips and pushes my phone into my hands. With an order for me to call for him if I need anything - “Yes, even cuddles because you’ve gotten so clingy and I love it” - he leaves to finish cleaning up from the latest batch of baby-stuff packages. I watch him go then sigh once he’s out of earshot.

He is supposed to be in the studio, but instead, he’s here at home with me. A part of me is selfish and thrilled to have more time with him before Baby comes. The rest of me isn’t quite so happy about him derailing his schedule. There have been many instances of him scribbling down lyrics and trying to write music while I “napped”.

It isn’t a lot of time away from me. He’s the only one able-bodied enough, and not on bed rest, to finish preparations and basically be at my beck-and-call. Evidently, the pregnancy has made me harder to please.

Blowing out a breath, I decide to take a nap. The more I sleep, the quicker time will fly by. Right?

“Hey, babe?” I shout, waiting until I hear his muffled acknowledgement. “I gotta pee.”

The next two days pass by in a slow blur. The hours meld together, and I can’t pinpoint a single thing that happens at any specific time. Niall tries his best to keep me company, but eventually, his presence becomes incredibly irritating.

So I do what any heavily-pregnant, annoyed-at-her-husband-for-being-so-perfect person would do: I banish him from the room.

“Call Haz, Lou, whoever. Just… go. Get some time away from me. Please, before you drive me fucking nuts.”

And as perfect as he is, he doesn’t take it personally. He just kisses me softly then makes sure I have everything I could possibly needs before leaving the room. I stare blankly at the bag of lozenges, frowning. The last time I needed them, I was barely twenty-three weeks along, and I’d had a minor cold.

I definitely don’t need them now.

A sharp pressure spreads through my abdomen as I bring up Netflix, clicking on the next episode of _GBBO_. Unfortunately, even Mel and Sue can’t keep the boredom at bay. And, since nothing else in my queue catches my attention, I don’t even bother.

So I open Skype instead. Another tightening. Blowing out a breath, I ignore the sensation. There’s a face I’ve not seen in a while, and I am seriously missing her now.

“Natty, save me.”

Natalie smiles tiredly and pushes her hair from her face. “What happened, Casper?”

“He won’t leave me alone! I get it, ya know? He wants me and Baby to be okay. To actually make it through this pregnancy unscathed, but holy hellballs, I just wanna be able to breathe without him in my face, or I might actually smack him in his.”

“Erin, he’s just worried. Lou was the same way, and weirdly, so was Goose. Hell, even Garrett. Everybody cares about you.”

“I know.” I sigh and shift awkwardly as the pressure finally eases. “I just want this to be done, so I can actually _do_ things. I’m tired of lying about and constantly using the damn toilet. And who knows, maybe I’ll be able to have a healthy sex life. Anyway, tell me what’s going on over there.”

As Natalie tells me about how big Levi has gotten in the last five months, I relax as much as I possibly can, though another wave ripples through my belly - one that I’m hoping but also doubting is the baby. She holds up a finger when a cry comes from the background, disappearing from the frame before I can reply. I can’t help but laugh - her attention span has never been very long, but at least now she has a valid reason for it.

“What’s wrong?” Nat asks quietly to not disturb the sleeping baby in her arms, her lips tugging down into a frown.

“Uh, nothing.” Somehow, my voice remains steady even through my wince. “Just Braxton Hicks, that’s all.”

She grimaces in sympathy then freezes. Her head tilts. “Those aren’t common this far along. How often have you had them?”

“Um, every, like, seven minutes or so since about twenty minutes before we started this Skype call.”

Her eyes dart away for a split second. “Erin, those aren’t Braxton Hicks, oh my god. Where’s Niall?”

“He’s - ow, _damn_ \- he’s somewhere. I kicked him out for a while.”

“Babe, you need to text him or something. Tell him what’s going on.”

“I can’t. Nothing is going on. It-it’s just false labour. It’s fine. I’m fine. Nat, I can’t do this.”

She doesn’t bother replying to me. My heart starts racing as I come to the conclusion that maybe she’s right - maybe this isn’t Braxton Hicks. I struggle to breathe, unable to draw in enough oxygen, while she shifts Levi in her arms to bring her phone to her ear.

“Hey, I don’t know where the Hell you are, but your wife is currently upstairs having contractions.”

Within thirty seconds of her hanging up, a loud thud comes from downstairs, shouting, footsteps pounding up the steps. Then Niall is skidding into the room in his socked feet. Harry and Bryan are close behind, Grace bringing up the rear.

“Best of luck, Casper,” Natalie says over the cacophony of voices suddenly filling my room; her face disappears from the screen, but not before I see her smile and thumbs-up.

Grace’s hands are cold, tiny, on my cheeks as she instructs me to breathe in - out - in - out - in - out. Everything goes blurry through the tears in my eyes, and all I can do is shake my head. Someone curses, then Harry pops into view, holding up my hospital bag.

“C’mon, sweetie, up ya go.”

Bryan carefully hauls me to my feet, and I manage to stay upright even as I stumble down the stairs. Niall practically glues himself to my other side on the trek down to the car. I try to calm down like Grace so obviously wants, but -

“I can’t do it,” I whimper, my voice so quiet and small. “Niall, I can’t - this wasn’t meant to happen for two more weeks. I’m not ready, holy shit, I can’t do this.”

Niall climbs into the backseat before me, helps me to get settled in while Harry tosses the bag onto the floorboard and closes the door. Bryan doesn’t bother saying goodbye to his wife; he just slams the SUV into gear and eels away.

“Darling, look at me.” Niall presses his lips to my forehead. “You _can_. It’s gonna be hard, but I know you can do this. Okay, I have faith in you, and you won’t be alone.”

“I swear, if you leave my side -”

“I’d never do that. Not in a million years. Just breathe, all right? Breathe.”

His grip on my hand is steady, grounding, and I cling to it tightly through another contraction. He pushes my hair out of my face and whispers encouragement. I do the only thing I can think of: panicking. I was supposed to have at least another couple of weeks.

Doctor Porter all but promised I wasn’t near the time for delivery.

“He didn’t say that, love.”

“Man, do you _really_ wanna argue semantics right now?” Bryan asks from the front seat, the derision in his voice strong enough to break through my anxious haze.

Niall wisely doesn’t argue.

Through a feat of magic only he is capable of, Bryan gets us to the hospital with no tickets, no accidents, and no traffic jams in our way. He is out of the car within seconds, helping me out onto my feet. Niall shuts the door then opens it again to grab the bag. I lean heavily into Bryan’s side as he tells my husband to get a nurse and a wheelchair.

Once Niall is gone, Bryan kisses my hair. “He’s right, y’know. You’re strong enough to do this.”

I gasp, “Wait! My parents!”

“Gracie is calling them. They’ll be here as soon as possible.”

“Bry, I thought I was ready, I really did. But I’m not. I’m _scared_.”

“So’s that boy. But he’ll be right there by your side the entire time, even if he faints.”

“Think he will?” I can’t help but giggle - the mental image is funny, even with my panic.

Niall takes over keeping me upright once we get inside the hospital. A nurse arrives within seconds, all but pushing me into the wheelchair, and Bryan wishes me the best before going to find a seat in the waiting room. I breathe through the pain and discomfort, focusing on keeping my thoughts from spiralling. Niall practically vibrates out of his skin as he follows the nurse.

“Ow!”

The nurse hides her smile. “Sorry, hun, had to check your progress.”

“And?”

“The doctor will be in soon,” she promises before exiting the room.

I reach for Niall’s hand, my own trembling violently as I wrap my fingers around his. “Do you really think -?”

“Yes.” He ducks down to card his fingers through my hair, smiles that gentle smile that I’ve loved since I met him. “I really think you can do this.”

“Well, I fucking hope you’re right, because I don’t think I have much of a choice.”

“Knock, knock.”

I look away from the clear blue of Niall’s eyes - the ones that hold my future and past and everything I’ll ever be - to see Doctor Porter striding in. He quickly scrubs his hands and uses sanitiser before approaching. Squeezing my eyes closed, I exhale slowly as he checks me over.

“Well, Mrs Horan, are you ready?”

“No.”

He smiles sympathetically. “It’s time.”


	29. Chapter 29

Ten tiny fingers, a tiny nose, tiny lips. Chubby cheeks and delicate brows. Dark hair under the smallest knit cap. Seven pounds and nine ounces of ‘most perfect little human ever’.

“He’s here,” I whisper without taking my eyes off of the newborn sleeping in my arms. “He’s… gods, Niall, he’s perfect.”

“I told you that you could do it,” he murmurs back.

“Don’t gloat. I just spent two hours bringing him into the world.”

“I’m going to gloat as much as I want. My gorgeous wife just gave birth to my beautiful son.”

I sniff as tears burn in my eyes again, blinking them away before they can slip down my cheeks. “What should we call him?”

“How about Jeremy?” Niall suggests, face remaining impassive even as I shake my head vehemently.

“Oh, gods, no. I’d never be able to call for him without being angry that his namesake isn’t here.”

“Okay, so… middle name?”

“Jem would be so angry. Let’s do it.” Staring down at the baby, I let my mind tumble over all the names I’ve read throughout the months. “How about Declan?”

Niall grins brightly, kisses my cheek. “He definitely looks like a Déaglán to me. Now, do you mind if I hold him? He’s mine, too, after all.”

“Fine, if you must separate the new mother from her baby.”

All he does in response is shake his head and reach for our son - Declan Jeremy Horan. As much fun as it was to tease him a bit about taking the baby from me, I can’t deny that it’s nice to just… relax. My body is sore all over; even my feet inexplicably hurt.

Seeing Declan in Niall’s arms feels right. As if it’s the view I’ve waited twenty-two years to witness. Nothing could possibly taint the utter contentedness and joy I feel right now, not even the undercurrent of pain coursing through my body. This is only an amazing new chapter in our lives as husband and wife.

Niall shifts Declan in his arms, cooing down at him, and I get a clearer angle to see the smile on my husband’s face. His eyes are bright, and a tear slides down his cheek, along his throat to disappear into the collar of his shirt. I reach for my phone, snapping a picture; I make sure the baby’s face isn’t in the shot before attaching it to a message for the group chat.

**To: Amber, Natalie, Louis, Harry, Liam, Zayn, Bryan, Gracie, Ma H, Owen, Zach, Tanner, Lisa, Dawn**  
 **<** _Holy hell how did my husband get even hotter?!_  
 **<** _No!! Social!! Media!! We trust you lot, but I’ll kill you. I swear I will. We wanna announce it ourselves on our own time._

“You decent in there, pumpkin?”

“C’mon in,” I call as I squirm uncomfortably against the pillows.

My dad pokes his head around the curtain first, face splitting into a proud grin even as his dark eyes fill with tears. His jaw tics, and I can’t stifle my giggle at the pointed way he shoves his hands into his pockets. Reaching over to tap Niall’s arm, I gesture with my chin toward my father’s perfect imitation of a child waiting for sweets.

“Let the grandfather hold the baby.”

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” my mom asks as she leans over to kiss my forehead.

“I guess I’m okay. I can see my feet again,” I announce, wiggling my toes, before I frown. “Well, I’d be able to if they weren’t covered with blankets. But yeah, absolutely _never_ doing that again.”

“I think every woman has said that after giving birth,” she laughs.

“Uh-oh.” My father passes the baby back to me. “Someone’s getting hungry. Want us to leave?”

“Uh… can Mom stay?”

“We’ll be right back, love,” Niall murmurs before pressing his lips to my cheek, followed by a kiss to Declan’s cheek. “Remember what Davina said - try to relax.”

Once my husband and my dad are gone, the door closing with a quiet clicking sound behind them, I struggle to pull the gown down off my shoulder, but it takes my mother’s assistance before it happens. She steps back and watches as I try to get Declan to latch properly; it takes a few minutes - and some pain - but it happens. I let myself sink further into the pillows.

“Is it supposed to be this uncomfortable?”

“He’s feeding for the first time,” she assures me, sitting on the edge of my bed. “Of course you aren’t going to be used to it. It’ll get better, you just have to keep up with it. Breast is best, after all.”

A sinking fills my chest at her words. It’s a sentiment I’ve heard since the pregnancy began. It’s in all the books, all the online forums, all the mommy-and-me group chats I’ve signed up for. “Breast is best”. And it may be true, but I haven’t been able to swallow the idea that someone is fundamentally flawed if they can’t breastfeed. That they’re somehow lesser if they rely on formula.

But I choke down my objections, my discomfort with breastfeeding and that stupid phrase, and hope that I’m at least doing this right. Declan squirms and grunts, but he doesn’t pull away. I take comfort in that - he’d pull away if I was doing something wrong, right?

My mom talks about her job, her students, her life with Dad for the entire half-hour that our husbands are out of the room. She doesn’t seem to expect me to keep up with the conversation, and I can’t help but be thankful for that. Between the doubts swirling around in my mind and the fatigue that clings to every fibre of my being, talking is the last thing on my mind.

Niall frowns as soon as he steps through the door, gaze tracking over my face. “Is everything okay?”

I sigh as my face heats up, eyes burning. “I don’t know. I just, I feel like I’m not doing this properly.”

My mother opens her mouth as if to say something, but Niall doesn’t give her a chance to speak. He immediately sits down next to me, moving aside my IV line with a careful hand, and runs his finger along my breast where our son’s lips meet skin. I have no idea what magic he performs. All I know is, abruptly the pain is gone. It’s awkward still but painless. Declan sighs, eyes closing as he suckles, and I let out a breath of relief.

“Thank you,” I manage to whisper as I meet Niall’s eyes, and his face softens.

“We’re a team, right?”

My mom coos gently, stroking Declan’s cheek with a fingertip. “See how happy he is?”

“Yeah, _now_.”

“Laura, please.” At Niall’s words, my mother’s mouth closes, and he takes it as permission to continue, “This is Erin’s first attempt at this. She deserves the chance to figure this out without being bombarded with well-intentioned advice. If she needs help, she’ll ask for it.”

My mom nods slowly though she doesn’t apologise. She also doesn’t even try to hide the flicker of disbelief painting her face. I understand the doubt to a degree - after all, she knows me better than almost anyone else - but there is no denying that it cuts me deeply to see exactly how little faith she has in me.

As much as it pains me to admit, gratitude floods through me when my parents leave an hour later. Breathing gets easier. My skin stops crawling under the weight of my mother’s scrutiny and silent criticising. Niall takes the baby from my arms, taking away the only thing I’ve used to ground myself instead of dwelling on my mom’s judgements.

Once Declan is in the cot, my husband curls around me, pulls me into his side. “I’m so sorry that happened, love.”

“Why doesn’t she think I can do this?”

My voice trembles and breaks, and Niall holds me as I cry. I’m not sure if it’s hormones, exhaustion, or physical and emotional pain - or all of the above. Whatever it is, it _hurts_ , and I let myself get caught in the maelstrom if only for a few minutes. A tiny voice in the back of my mind wishes things were easier, different.

By the time the next round of visitors arrive, I’ve taken a quick nap while Niall cared for Declan. Amber is the first through the door, hands empty and “ready for some baby love”, as she announces. Alan, Brett, and Gracie follow close behind, but none of them are nearly as exuberant. Or, at least, they don’t look like they’re going to bounce off the walls like a rubber ball if they don’t get to hold a newborn right this very second. Amber takes about a million photos, gasping aloud when I cradle Declan in my arms with Niall close at my side, and she snaps another three dozen pictures.

“Oh, god, Renny, this is beautiful, you’re _glowing_!” She shoves her phone in my face so I can see the picture, and I exchange a look with Niall.

“Send it to us, please?”

“Oooh, announcement photo?”

I nod. “Announcement photo. Tomorrow. I’m too fucking tired right now to deal with the drama that’ll come with it.”

“Yes. Today is all about resting. Well, the last few weeks have been about resting, but especially today. So I’ve kinda taken the liberty to kinda-sorta-maybe Tweet as you.”

“Wait, what?”

While she taps at her phone screen, Niall carries Declan over to where the rest of the group sit on the couch. Gracie shakes her head with a smile, informs me that Bryan is standing guard outside the door until Rick or Basil can get here, and tears fill my eyes. Bryan may be my head of security, the man I rely on to protect me when I’m out and about, but he’s also the closest thing to the father I didn’t have for so long. And now he’s willingly sacrificing time with my baby to keep us safe.

“Okay, no crying, woman,” Amber scolds me as she drops to cuddle with me on the bed. “Now read.”

**@erroroperatorr:** _I’m tired. And hungry. And bored. Anybody have any good shows to watch? (27 May 2016 10:33)_  
 **@erroroperatorr:** _Seriously, bed rest is no joke. (27 May 2016 13:19)_  
 **@erroroperatorr:** _Can I just say this is a much better audience than before?? (27 May 2016 15:58)_  
 **@erroroperatorr:** _RT if you want LLS with Craig Ferguson back! (3 June 2016 23:10)_  
 **@erroroperatorr:** _How do I get #BringBackCraigFerguson trending?? Someone help a pregnant woman out! (6 June 2016 17:44)_  
 **@erroroperatorr:** _Okay, I’ll be honest. I just wanna see Geoff again. (6 June 2016 17:45)_  
 **@erroroperatorr:** _@CraigyFerg have Geoff call me! (6 June 2016 17:45)_

Amber grins victoriously at my giggling - the Tweets are exactly the kind of boredom-induced nonsense that I would have sent into the webosphere if I had Twitter on my phone. Especially the ones about Craig Ferguson, the best Scotsman I’ll ever meet in my life.

There are only two new posts on my Instagram, uploaded on the same day with identical captions - a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a card. I raise a brow, bringing the phone closer to read what the card says.

  


“Did this really happen?” I whisper, scarcely able to breathe through the tears, and I look up at Amber and her soft smile.

“Yep. Didn’t you see them?”

Niall frowns and scratches at the back of his neck. “I meant to bring them upstairs for you, but it slipped my mind. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, babe. You’ve been doing so much lately, I’d be surprised if something _didn’t_ fall through the cracks.”

“Wait,” he says suddenly, and everyone stares at him. He ignores us to cock his head, narrowing his eyes at Amber. “How did _you_ see them?”

She shrugs and plucks her phone from my hand. “I came by to spend some time with Erin yesterday, but you both were napping. So I saw the flowers, took a picture, and voila.”

I giggle, leaning against her, and sigh. “You realise it’s not your job to keep my socials up to date, right?”

“You have enough to worry about. Speaking of, Brett William Maxson, you better give me that cutie right now.”

He huffs out a laugh, crossing the room to gingerly shift Declan into her arms. “Get your fill of babies now, Am, because we’re not having any for a long time.”

“But you want kids, yeah?” When Brett nods, Amber beams up at her boyfriend. “Good enough for me. So what’s his name?” she asks quietly once the baby is situated against her chest.

Before I can respond, the door swings open. I frown and count the friends already here - who could possibly be coming now? Then Natalie comes around the curtain, Goose and Levi trailing after her, but my focus is on the enormous iced coffee in her hand.

“That’s mine. Right? You brought that for me? You better have brought that for me, because if you didn’t, I will fucking cry, and our friendship is over because you’ve decided to torture me so badly. Didn’t you know torture is banned? Natalie Eleanor, I swear -”

“Chill, Casper,” she laughs and hands me the cup. “Of course I brought it for you. What do you think I am, cruel and heartless?”

“I dunno, I figured you’d get me back for the drumset.”

“Ha! That’s at Lou’s for now.”

“Devious. I love it, oh gods, I love you so much.”

“Me or the coffee?”

“The coffee, duh. Now go away, we’re having a moment.”

My friends all laugh at me, but I ignore them in favour of sucking up a large mouthful of chocolate, coffee goodness. It’s been far too long since I’ve had this much caffeine in one go. Niall chuckles, kisses my hair, and turns to Amber. I smile up at him around the straw but don’t stop drinking. I’m going to get as much as I can, as quickly as I can.

“To answer your question, his name is Declan Jeremy Horan.”

Within seconds of the announcement, everyone launches into _aww_ s and crowds around Amber and Declan.

Everyone but Alan.

I catch his eye from across the room, and it’s only because I know him so well that I can recognise the hurt that fills his eyes. The way the blood drains from his face. The anger that takes over. I lower the cup, but he’s gone before I can say a word.

I stare after him as my chest tightens, skin growing cold. A buzzing zips through my veins, unrelated to the massive amount of coffee I’ve ingested in such a short time. My stomach churns, my body turns to stone. I gasp out a breath before I can no longer hold back the tears. Niall doesn’t bother promising to be right back.

He just stands and follows after Alan.


	30. Chapter 30

** Niall **

The soft sniffles follow me from the room, and the door closes on Amber’s voice as she comforts Erin. My heart races, beats out a desire to make Alan regretting hurting Erin’s feelings. It’s only because I know he’s important to her that I don’t swing first, ask questions later.

“You made my wife cry,” I announce quietly once we’re halfway down the corridor.

Alan’s shoulders tighten, but he doesn’t stop walking toward the exit. “Fuck off, Niall.”

“Nah, mate, don’t think I will. See, there’s a woman in that room that I love, not even four hours after giving birth to the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen, and she’s crying because of _you_.”

I continue following him, and he continues trying to put distance between us. I won’t let him. Laura upsetting my wife is one thing - I can’t change that. Only Erin can stand up to her mother, because I refuse to drive a wedge in their relationship, no matter how I disagree with Laura’s behaviour. But the man who’s supposed to be one of her best friends? I can step in for that.

Alan doesn’t speak in the lift, as we make our way through the maze of halls, during our trek through the car park. He reaches for the handle of his Charger, sighing, and his head falls forward. Suddenly, he pivots on his heel to face me. His dark eyes shine in the glare of the lot lights.

“Why did you name him that?” he pleads quietly, voice hard and cracking, and I blink stupidly at him for a moment.

“Jem meant the world to her. Why _wouldn’t_ we honour him like hat?”

“She didn’t tell you.” He blows out a breath at my obvious confusion - what the Hell is he talking about? - and scrubs at the tears on his cheeks. “She and Jem… They’d get drunk and argue over who’d get to use the name ‘Declan’. It always ended in the same agreement: Whoever had a son first would call dibs.”

Everything makes sense now. His reaction is understandable. It’s been four years since he lost his brother, but of course he’d still be hurting when it came to something this momentous. Something that inadvertently involves his brother. If Greg died, I’d be torn apart.

But that doesn’t justify how he’s made Erin feel.

“So you’re angry that she’s using the name?” I ask quietly, and he smacks at his car.

“No! I’m fucking pissed that Jem never got a fair chance! We - the band - we argued, and he felt like we were all against him, and now he’s _dead_ , Niall. He’s dead. He’ll never have a kid, and it isn’t fair that she gets to but my brother doesn’t.”

I breathe out slowly, trying to control my own surge of anger. Erin has commented on how quick I am to respond when frustrated, how horribly my words can come out. I don’t want to completely destroy the relationship she has with him, no matter the fact his reaction has broken her heart. So I run a hand through my hair and try to think before I speak.

“Alan, I’m sorry, okay? You’re right. Jem never should’ve died that ay, and he definitely shouldn’t have died when he did.”

“Damn right,” he bites out, going to say something else, but I speak over him.

“But we can’t change what’s happened. And it isn’t - it isn’t fair to Erin for you to punish her for something she had no control over.” Sighing, I look away from him. “I think it’s best you go home. I’ll tell her… something, fuck, I dunno. I’m good at thinking on my feet.”

It isn’t a surprise that Alan doesn’t even try to argue. He’s a smart guy, so he’s most likely aware that I will do my best to physically force him into his car if he tries to go back inside. I would burn this world down to protect my wife and my child, and Alan isn’t dumb enough to not know that.

He nods sharply, yanks on the door handle, then presses a button his fob. The car lets out a series of quiet beeps, the _thunk_ of the locks disengaging. He avoids looking at me as he slides into the driver’s seat. I remain where I am while he reverses then peels away.

Silence descends on the car park once the navy Charger is out of sight; all I can hear are the crickets in the grass, the wind rustling the leaves on the trees, and the echoes of Erin’s crying in my ears. Closing my eyes, I breathe in deeply and try to think of what I could possibly say to explain Alan’s disappearance.

Today was supposed to be one of the happiest days of our lives - the day Erin and I became parents. The day our family grew to include one more. I can’t help but worry that it’s tainted now, that Erin will forever associate Declan’s birth with the risk of losing one of her closest friends.

_Declan_. I was taken aback when she suggested the name. We’d never really sat down and talked about names, saying we would figure it out when the time came. So for her to have a chosen name so quickly had been unexpected. Having the full story behind the name, though… It isn’t so surprising now, I suppose.

My gaze shifts to the fourth floor, the squares of white and the glass reflecting the street-lights. I’m not looking forward to this, but I can’t linger out here any longer. Between her emotional state and her anxiety, Erin is going to start panicking if I don’t get back into the room within the next few minutes.

Sighing, I steel my spine and double-check that Alan hasn’t come back. My self-control is only so strong, and it certainly can’t withstand seeing his face any longer while knowing he’s made Erin cry. Sure, he has every right to be upset about the situation, to admit he wishes his brother had the opportunity to be a father. We _all_ wish Jem was alive again, even me.

But there is no excuse for him taking it out on Erin. Not ever, but specially not now. Not after months of her worrying, of doubting er ability to be a great mother, of her body changing so drastically and her mental health worsening.

Not after the weeks of death threats.

Not after he’s watched her fear for her life, for our baby’s life, because of so-called “fans” deciding to react so horribly.

Not after everything she went through following Jem’s death. She was just as devastated as Alan was, and she still hates herself for not doing more to stop Jem from leaving the studio that day.

Alan doesn’t get to hurt her so horribly in hopes of lessening his own pain.

Nurses smile but ultimately leave me alone as I make my way back to the room. Though I can see a few people recognising me when I pass by open doors and past waiting rooms, they don’t stop me. A light flickers overhead, shadows dancing on the walls, and my shoes squeak on the linoleum. A janitor moves from room to room, bringing out rubbish and disinfecting anywhere a person might touch.

Once I reach the correct door, I pause. There is no excuse I can make for Alan, nothing I can say that can make this better. To take away the hurt Erin is feeling. My mind is an endless barren landscape, devoid of any way of softening the blow. I draw in a steadying breath, the metal handle cold beneath my palm.

I can’t put this off any longer.

So I step into the room, meet Erin’s eye, and do what I swore never to do: I lie to my wife.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we are **back** with our regularly scheduled programming

Conversations flow around me, as if my friends are allowing me the privacy to feel my hurt without an audience - never mind the fact there are six people in the room, playing a game of “pass the potato” with my hours-old baby. Amber and Natalie sit on either side of me, and I draw comfort from their presence. Outside of Niall, these two have been my biggest source of support throughout this entire ordeal.

So for them to be so close, comforting me through the pain of Alan’s abrupt departure…

It doesn’t make it easier. I just feel less alone.

The chatter dies out when the door opens, and I hold my breath as Niall appears from around the corner. His lips twist into a sympathetic smile, and he beelines toward the bed. My friends move away, but not before Amber kisses my temple and Nat sets my coffee on the bedside table. Once my husband is situated beside me, I lean into his side, sighing.

“Where’s Alan?”

Niall presses his lips to my hair, exhales steadily. “He got a bit overwhelmed, but he says congratulations to us and he’s off to tell his ma about Declan.”

It sounds reasonable. Logical. Plausible. If I was on the outside looking in, I would believe Niall’s words as trth. Even Amber would. But he’s my husband. I know his word patterns, the way he sounds when he’s being honest. The way he looks me in the eye and isn’t right now.

So I know he’s lying to me right now.

He is doing it for a gallant, selfless reason, sure. But he is lying to me about why one of my best friends just sped from the room like Cujo was nipping at his heels.

I can’t find it in me to care. The pain of the deception will catch up to me later, but for now, I let my husband - the father of our child - lie to me.

Natalie and Goose leave first, apologising profusely when Levi’s fussing sets Declan off, and the room fills with the crying of two infants.Gracie promises Bryan will be in the morning. She doesn’t explain why he hasn’t come in today, and I don’t ask. Finally, only Brett and Amber remain, though even they prepare to leave.

“I can stay and watch over little man so you two can get some sleep,” she murmurs as she transfers a sleeping Declan into my arms.

“Nah, it’s okay. Gotta get used to waking constantly for reasons other than nightmares and anxiety, right?”

My joke doesn’t seem to reassure her, but she follows her boyfriend out of the room anyway. Niall carefully moves from his spot next to me on the bed, dropping into the recliner with his phone in hand. I stare down at Declan, the round cheeks and pursed lips, and wonder just how much life is going to change now.

“You know, don’t you?” I ask quietly after a few minutes of hearing nothing but our breathing and Niall’s thumbs tapping at the screen of his phone.

A short sigh, then: “Yeah. Alan told me.”

“He’s mad.”

“Not at you, darling.” Niall’s foot taps against the floor, and I know, even without looking at him, that he’s trying to figure out the best way to tell me how I hurt Alan. “He’s angry that Jem isn’t here.”

“So am I.”

“Please don’t snap at me, Erin. I know that. I even told him so. I told him it was unfair for him to be punishing you for a shitty situation no one could control.”

I sigh and scrub at my cheek. “Sorry. And sorry for not, y’know…”

“For not telling me that we were naming our son after a bet you made with your best friend? I think I can forgive you for that,” he laughs.

“We can -”

“We aren’t changing his name. As I said, he looks like a Déaglán.”

I smile tiredly and move Declan to the portable cot, suddenly wanting nothing more than to sleep for as long as possible. Niall waits until I’m settled under the blankets before he stands to turn off the overhead lights; the only illumination left comes from the attached bathroom, white stretching through the room. He kisses Declan’s head, making sure his lips don’t touch bare skin, then curls up around me. Blowing out a breath, I close my eyes.

“Please don’t ever lie to me again.”

He inhales sharply, as if intending to defend himself, but he lets it go. Instead, he rests his forehead against the back of my skull and promises.

By the time Declan and I are no longer considered patients three days later, I have officially given up on breastfeeding. I’d tried to the point of tears, but he didn’t seem to be getting enough milk, no matter how long he was latched on. Besides, all it did was stress me out further.

But him being exclusively formula-fed stresses me out, as well. I feel like a failure now, though both Niall and Devina, our lactation consultant, swore to me that it wasn’t a mark against my character or ability as a mother.

The house is spotless when I step through the front door. A small stack of envelopes sits on the table in the entryway, and the scent of laundry detergent floats through the air. I breathe in deeply, relishing the scent of anything other than ‘hospital’, and move out of the way so Niall can bring the car-seat inside.

My phone beeps from the pocket of the diaper bag, and I sigh. I know who it’s from and what it is going to contain - another link to another medical article about breastfeeding. I’d called my mom last night after Niall fell asleep, seeking out comfort or reassurance or _some_ thing, and she had been supportive of the decision to switch to formula.

But then the texts started coming in, and they haven’t stopped.

“Just leave it,” I tell Niall as he reaches for the bag. “Just… let’s just get settled in.”

He nods and sets the car-seat on the couch, carefully unbuckling our son. I lift Declan from his seat, cradling him to my chest, and make my way up the stairs to our room. He looks so tiny in his cot, smaller than his seven-and-a-half pounds and nineteen inches. I stroke a finger over his chubby cheek, my eyes burning though I smile when he squeaks and squirms.

Turning on the baby monitor, I grab the receiver and head back down to the living room. My phone sits on the coffee-table, and Niall won’t meet my eye. My lips tug down into a frown as I drop to sit next to him on the couch. When he gives me no answers, I unlock my phone.

> **To: Mom**   
>  _Hi, Laura, it’s Niall. Listen. We truly appreciate how helpful you are trying to be, but you’re really not helping right now . You are actually causing Erin more stress , and that’s the last thing she needs at the moment. Please stop ._

“Babe-”

“Were you ever going to tell her to stop?” he asks quietly, staring down at his feet, hands clasped in front of him.

“I was giving her the chance to get it all out of her system.”

“So you were, what? Going to let her keep upsetting you just so you didn’t upset her?” His gaze cuts to me, and I shrink under the intensity. “Erin, that’s fucking stupid. You just had a baby. This is the last time you should be pestered with ‘advice’ you didn’t ask for.”

“I don’t want to talk about this. Please.”

“No, Erin. You do this all the time. You let yourself get walked all over and treated however, as long as it doesn’t affect your relationships with people. You’d willingly cut your heart out for people who do nothing but hurt you, no matter how they don’t mean to.”

“Then what do you want me to do?” I scrub a hand over my face, surprised by the tears on my cheeks. My chest aches, my throat tightening, and any joy I felt at being home is gone. “You want me to just stop talking to people?”

“Don’t try to put words in my mouth, I never once said that.”

“Then what?”

Niall sighs, reaching for my hand, and his face falls when I pull away. Exhaling sharply, he pushes to his feet and paces through the living room. “I want you to start putting yourself first. When someone does something that upsets you, speak up. When you feel someone is crossing a line, tell them. You need to be selfish sometimes.”

“It isn’t that easy.”

“You’ve done it how many times with Natalie, and now it’s too hard?”

“Fuck off.”

Before he can reply, I stuff my phone into my pocket and storm from the room. He may be right - nothing of what he’s saying has been wrong - but I can’t handle this conversation right now. I can’t handle listening to him pointing out my shortcomings, no matter how helpful he is trying to be.

The flowers droop in their vase, orange and red and yellow petals scattered on the countertop beneath the glass. My hand shakes as I yank the bouquet from the jar and toss them in the garbage. Today has gone so off-rails, and I hate it. I hate how my mother and my husband have ruined my relief of not being in the hospital.

“I’m sorry.”

I let out a laugh that borders on delirium. “Why? Why be sorry, Niall? You only said what you’ve so obviously been wanting to say for a long time.”

“Because I didn’t want to upset you. Shockingly, that wasn’t my goal, Erin.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Where are you going?” he groans, following me out of the kitchen, and I jerk to a stop at the base of the stairs.

“I’m going to take a nap. I’m tired, I’m stressed, and right now, I’m not exactly a fan of looking at your face.”

I leave Niall in the living room, blood roaring in my ears. Minute tremors run through my body as I drop onto the bed, and I cover my face with my hands. His words echo in my mind, each one hitting harder with every repetition.

This is the worst we have fought in a long time - even after the pregnancy announcement, when he was angry that I kept the death threats from him, we hadn’t spoken words so venomous to each other.

I certainly hadn’t said ‘fuck off’, and nor had he.

Blowing out a breath, I let myself sprawl across the mattress and sniff back tears. My heart pounds beneath my breastbone, fuelled by rage and hurt. Anger at him, at my mom, at Alan.

_Alan_.

My breath stutters as I remember the look on his face before he sped from the room. The way his dark eyes had grown even darker with his own pain, and the heartbreaking expression on his blood-drained face.

> **To: Baby Daddy**   
>  _I’m sorry. Can you come up here so we can talk?_
> 
> **From: Baby Daddy**   
>  _On my way love_

I set my phone on the nightstand, curling onto my side as his footsteps near. The bed dips behind me, an arm looping over my wist, and I close my eyes as Niall presses a kiss to my shoulder. When he’s settled in around me, I lace our fingers together and exhale shakily, though no words come.

Not until he whispers, “Talk to me.”

“I’m angry. At my mom, yeah, but… also at Alan. And Jem. They’re supposed to be my best friends, and they both left me. I was supposed to be able to be a sore winner, laugh in Jem’s face that I got to use the name Declan. And Alan was supposed to be right there telling me to knock my shit off. Jem wasn’t supposed to die, and Alan… he wasn’t supposed to run away like that.”

Niall holds me impossibly tighter as I let the tears come, let the pain wiggle its way to the forefront of my mind. He doesn’t speak for a long minute, just allows me to fall apart in a way I haven’t in years.

Not at the funeral when I’d been so numb from the panic attack.

Not at our wedding, when I so desperately wished Jem could have been there.

Not since I sat by Jem’s graveside and screamed about the unfairness of it all.

“I just... I have a lot that I haven’t really thought about,” I mumble, rolling over to face him. “And the conversation just tipped the scales to ‘too much to process’. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, not when you’re trying to help me. I’m sorry.”

“I know, and I’m sorry if you felt like I was attacking you. I just hate seeing you miserable.”

“Can I ask you something?” At his nod, I avert my gaze from his, watch my fingers as they trace his jawline; stubble pricks my fingertips. “Are you still mad that I kept the threats a secret?”

He sighs, shrugging, before shifting onto his back. I cuddle closer against his side and rest my head on his chest.

“I was. For a long time, I couldn’t get over it. You kept something so monumental from me, and it could have gone so poorly. I wouldn’t have known. But Alan and me, we talked. He told me it took you almost an entire year to tell anyone, even Amber, about the threats you got when the band first became popular.

“So it was easier, I guess, to let go of that anger when I considered that and the fact you were planning to tell me as soon as I got home.”

I open my mouth to say - _something_. Whatever it is, I don’t know, and I have no chance to find out before the room fills with the grunts and cries of a very unhappy baby. Niall kisses my forehead, pushes me away gently, then stands. I watch him stretch as he crosses the room to our child, and everything fades away.

The frustrations, the doubts and fears, they all mean nothing right now. Not when Niall is cradling Declan to his chest, staring down at the infant with awestruck wonder painted over his face. Not when our son is here. Not when we are home where we belong, together as a family.

For once, just for a moment, the unknowns of the future don’t seem so daunting.


	32. Chapter 32

It doesn’t get easier. In fact, the days are longer and nights are shorter, and I struggle to feel a connection with Declan. The child who’s half-me, half-Niall. Regret becomes my best friend over the next few weeks: I shouldn’t be doing so poorly at being a mother.

I certainly shouldn’t be wishing I’d never gotten pregnant.

I certainly shouldn’t wish that Declan didn’t exist and that things could be like they were before. When it was just Niall and me, the two of us living out wedded bliss. No baby, only us.

My lungs burn as I fight to breathe. The air comes right back out as a gasping sound, tearing at my throat and joining the cacophony of noise already in the room. My phone lights up on the edge of the changing table, but I remain where I am in the corner of the bedroom. As far away from the cot as I could possibly be.

As far away from the crying baby as I could possibly be.

Declan lets out an ear-piercing squall. Another sob rips from me as guilt and failure battle in my mind. I can’t even take care of my son. What kind of mother am I really? _Not a very good one_ , a voice whispers over the hurricane in my head. When he cries again, my hands itch with the urge to make it stop.

Niall took to being a dad like a duck to water. He’s done so well, has been so wonderful with our child. Everyone has been able to do the right things for Dec.

I can’t.

I _can’t_.

I don’t know the differences in his cries. I don’t know how to change his diaper while simultaneously getting his bottles ready. Hell, I couldn’t even breastfeed him like a real mother should. How did I ever think I could do this?

_You’ve failed. He’s going to hate you, and Niall will leave you because you aren’t good enough._

I’m not.

I scrub a hand over my eyes only for more tears to replace the ones I wipe away. _I’m so damn sorry_ , I think, hoping that Declan can somehow hear and understand my thoughts. That he can hear and know how much I love him even though he’s been given such an awful mother. How much I love him even though I don’t want him.

“Erin, what’s - Love? What happened?”

I bury my face in my knees, choking on air and tears. Of course Niall’s home. He is going to see the mistake he made in marrying me, in having a baby with me. He doesn’t come to me. Instead, his footsteps cross the room quickly but in the opposite direction - toward our son, like the perfect parent he is. Shoving myself to my feet, I sprint toward the door.

He can handle this. I need to get away. Another cry from upstairs. I shudder and trip down the stairs. The pain is negligible, smothered by the burning in my veins. I’m a failure. I’m nothing that Declan needs. Niall will leave, take our son with him, and I’ll be left alone like I deserve.

The echo of the back door slamming shut covers the backyard, and I make my way across the patio, the stones still sun-warmed under my bare feet. A broken sob breaks free as I sit on the edge of the pool, dangling my legs in the water. The added contact against my legs does nothing to help me regain control of myself.

The doubts only grew stronger since we came home from the hospital. I knew I would never be as good of a mother as my mom, as Natalie. Tonight has just cemented that doubt as fact. A manic giggle threatens to strangle me. My heart races beneath my ribs, and shame floats to the surface. It isn’t fair to my husband or child that they got stuck with me.

Now that silence surrounds me, my swirling thoughts war against each other to make themselves known. Anxiety and fear have ramped up everything I have felt since Declan was born. I think about all the times I’ve watched Nat with Levi, the home videos and pictures of my mother with me as a baby. The stories she and my father have told me about their upbringings.

They were all amazing from the start. Everything looked so effortless for them, and they all forged bonds with their children without struggle. So why the Hell is it so hard for me? _Because you’re broken. There’s something wrong with you. You will never be what they need._

Warmth presses against my back. I don’t need to turn my head to recognise it. Niall’s body is as familiar to me as my own. His breath ghosts across the back of my neck, and he pulls me in against his chest as he lets his legs rest beside mine. I focus on the fact he was smart enough to roll up the hems of his jeans.

The hems of my sweatpants are soaked. Another way I’ve failed. Gods, I can’t even be smart enough to do something so small as not put my clothes in the pool.

The maelstrom quiets with his tight hold on me. A familiar clicking noise sounds from next to my head, followed by Niall coughing, and he passes over a lit cigarette. I stare at it for a long moment before taking it from him with trembling fingers.

I’m not shocked he knows where I’ve kept the pack hidden away. I’m only surprised that he’s willing to sit here with me while I smoke. He hasn’t exactly kept his opinions about my smoking a cigarette.

The last of the birds fall silent, leaving only the songs of nocturnal insects to fill the quiet. The fresh air and Niall’s cologne are enough to bring me the first tendrils of peace. My body goes abruptly lax; the leftover tension and panic fades away. I let myself sag into him as I finish the cigarette.

Glass scrapes against stone, and I glance down to see my husband nudging an ashtray toward me. Sniffing back more tears, I stub the butt against the bottom and exhale heavily. I drop my head back to rest on Niall’s shoulder, and his lips press warmly to my temple.

“What happened?”

“I… gods, I’m a fucking failure,” I mutter as I close my eyes. The navy sky disappears, replaced by utter darkness. “I tried everything I could think of, but he just - he wouldn’t stop crying. I fed him, I changed him, burped him. I even sang to him while rocking him for over an hour. I just couldn’t get him to stop.”

“Oh, darling. Why didn’t you call me? Or your mum?”

“Why? So you guys can see just how shitty of a mother I am? I can’t even comfort my child, so something must be wrong with me.” My voice cracks with the lump in my throat, the guilt and self-hatred that I can’t shake.

“Erin, you are _not_ a bad mum. You’re overwhelmed and exhausted. You’re stressed. But I promise you’ll figure it out soon.”

“Well, Nat never had this problem. Neither did Mom.”

Niall buries his face in my hair, sighs. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe they _did_ have this problem but kept it to themselves, just like you’re doing?”

“No.”

He huffs out a laugh at my reluctant admission. “Maybe you should talk to them. Because as alone as you feel in this, I can guarantee that you’re not.”

All I can do is nod slowly. Words don’t exist right now. He hums quietly in my ear, the gentle strains of the song I recognise as _Flicker_. Water laps at our legs as we sit there, and I let go of the rest of my fears.

Eventually, he runs a hand along my arm and asks if I’m ready to go inside yet. My head is shaking before he even finishes speaking. I don’t want to leave the tranquillity of the backyard - what if it destroys the rickety foundation of calm I’ve slowly begun to relax into? He hesitates then hooks a finger under my chin, turns my face toward him.

The kiss is soft, sweet, a promise of together and our future. Our forever, all wrapped up in one. Niall stands, taking care to not push me in the pool by accident, and picks up the gold and white box from off the patio next to us. Lips tugging into a frown, he hands me another cigarette and the lighter.

“I’ll be inside when you’re ready, love.”

I watch him vanish into the darkness of our house, the quiet voice telling me I will never be ready. _Niall can’t wait forever._

The only sounds in the bedroom are Declan’s steady breathing and the soft plinks of piano coming from the music-box on the shelf. I stare down at the sleeping baby and stroke a finger over his light downy hair. A feeble ray of hope flickers to life in my chest, the flame quivering valiantly as it struggles to retain life. I can’t stop doubting Niall’s promise.

The longer I watch Declan sleep, the more terrified I get. The more I want to run away and leave everything behind. My chest tightens, and I force myself to lean down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. It amazes me, really, how ready I am to give up but also not wanting to throw in the towel quite yet.

Niall has showered and is already lying down by the time I turn to our bed. He watches me closely as I drop my sweatpants into the hamper and pad across the room. His arms open when I slide in between the sheets, and I scoot close to him until there’s no space between us. Breathing in the familiar scent, I can relax now.

Even in the worst of times, just having him near made it all so much easier to handle. He’s helped me through Jem, my father, and now this. Us being parents. I say a silent prayer that having him by my side is enough to pull me through this, if only for his and Declan’s sakes.

Niall, thankfully, doesn’t bring up what happened. Instead, he distracts me by holding me tightly and talking to me about the progress he’s made on his album. I close my eyes and listen to his voice, the rhythmic beating of his heart beneath my ear, and every unspoken _I love you_ in his words.


End file.
